Art Class
by damandabear 2
Summary: Mulder and Scully take an art class together, and Scully hopes for more than just friendship. (The story is better than the summary.)COMPLETE!
1. A Favor

**The X-Files: Art Class**

**By Damandabear**

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**Sorry it took me so long to get this reposted. I am finally done with my midterms, but now I have some other projects to work on over break. If you could please refer to my new profile for an explanation of what happened, that would be great. Thanks much, and don't stop reviewing.**

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"Hey, Mulder," I greet as I walks into our basement office. He is acting oddly, and I almost forget why. Oh, yes. The kiss. The year 1999 is finally over and done with, and 2000 has begun. Today is Monday, January 3rd, and there is plenty of work to be done. "Mulder?" I repeat when he doesn't respond.

"Sorry, Scully. I didn't hear you come in," he blurts distractedly. Ok. So maybe he isn't still thinking about it, after all. So, why am I? It was nothing. Nothing? Nothing…something…nothing…s

"Is that our new case that you're looking at?" I ask, sliding onto the desk in front of him. He makes to look up at me, but his gaze lingers a bit longer than normal…especially at my thighs and chest. He must have noticed that I noticed because he blushes and turns hurriedly away. I want to tell him it's okay, but is it?

"I'm actually not looking at a case right now."

"Oh yeah? What are you looking at then?"

"I still get brochures to some of the local community colleges every once in a great while, and this one caught my eye." I give him a quizzical, teasing look, so he continues. "It's an art class."

"An _art_ class, Mulder? Since when do you do _art_?" He looks insulted, but I'm not sure why.

"Exactly. You are always accusing me of having no life and working too much." Looking back down at the brochure, he mumbles, "Maybe this is exactly what I need."

"Huh," I grunt thoughtfully. "Maybe it is." I push off his desk and begin to skim through a yellow folder that has been tossed haphazardly on a chair by the door. "Is this our case?"

He nods without even looking at me. Then, "Hey, Scully? Would you be interested in taking this class with me?" My eyes dart to the brochure and then to him. He might as well have suggested I sing again.

"Oh, God, Mulder…I couldn't do art if my life depended on it."

"But that's the beauty!" he grins. "Your life _doesn't_ depend on it."

"Mulder…no."

"Come on, Scully. It'll be fun."

"Fun? _Fun?_ Fun is something you have when you don't suck at what you are doing."

"Who says?" he counters. I strain to answer, but shrug my retreat in the end. "Besides, the only reason you are so bad at the artsy stuff is because you are insanely intelligent. I mean, seriously, it's abnormal. You are literally a walking encyclopedia." He bites his lip. "You'd be doing me a favor."

"Well," I consider, "if I'm doing it as a favor to you, then…fine." I laugh as he grabs me in an excited hug, but when his eyes catch mine at just the right moment, time stands still. It only does so for a couple seconds, but enough to send us awkwardly back to our stations. _Now_, it is time to get to work.


	2. Finger Painting

"So, what's the agenda today?" Scully asks as she slides into the passenger seat. Mulder bounces in the driver seat excitedly. He has been looking forward to this all month, and there is only one thing that could potentially bring him down now, but he would not allow that one thing to happen. He had offered to pick her up that morning, but his intentions were not just to save her the trouble; he didn't want her to chicken out.

"I think today is finger painting," he answers with a goofy grin.

"_Finger painting_, Mulder?"

"Yep. So, I hope you don't mind gettin' down and dirty."

She buckles her seatbelt and rolls her eyes at him. "When have I ever minded?" He chuckles and throws the car in gear.

When they walk into the classroom, the sight they find isn't too far off from what they had expected. "Well, this looks promising," Mulder chimes, unconsciously grabbing her hand. Scully notices but doesn't say anything. Truth be told, she has actually been enjoying his recent boost of intimacy with her. Ever since that kissthat still means nothinghe has become more clingy and dependent on her. It's almost as if he wants to spend every waking moment with her. _This_, she really doesn't mind. "Where do you want to sit?"

She looks around observantly. Then, she pointswith her free handto a couple empty seats in the back corner of the room. "How about there?" He gives her a suggestive leer. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," he answers nonchalantly. "I just find it amusing that you want to be hidden…like you intend on"

"Don't get your hopes up too quickly," she interrupts, sitting in the more distant of the two seats.

"I know. I know. But a guy can dream, can't he?" She allows his question to go unanswered as the teacher enters the room. "I feel really old," Mulder suddenly whispers, looking around at all the young college students among them. Scully considers a nasty comeback, but resists when she realizes there is nothing she could say without insulting herself, as well. It's not like she's a young college girl anymore.

"Okay, class," the teacher begins, "today, we will be jumping into the water head first. Usually, I prefer to use the first class period to go over the syllabus and talk about what we will be doing the remainder of the semester, but I have decided to reserve that for Wednesday. I would like to remind you that this is a Monday/Wednesday class, and that we will be doing a wide range of art projects in here. My goal is to cover just about everything. But, as I have already said, we will discuss that on Wednesday. Today, let's just dig in!" The young students in the room whoop and rejoice as though they are at a pep rally. Meanwhile, Mulder and Scully just exchange looks. As the teacher passes out materials, Scully can't help but wonder what she has gotten herself into. Mulder, on the other hand, attempts to mimic the others' enthusiasm. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Scully says to Professor _Glitter_ (how disgustingly cliché) as she accepts her materials. Turning to Mulder when they are cut loose to "explore their inner artists," Scully gasps, "Is this woman for real?" Mulder chuckles and turns to face the fresh canvas in front of him. "What are you going to paint?"

"I'm not really sure. I was thinking I'd paint you," he answers, trying desperately to stifle another goofy grin. At first, Scully isn't quite sure how to accept this, but then Mulder sticks his thumb in the Sea Foam Bluish-green paint and smears it across her cheek. "So far so good!" he laughs.

"Oh, how original," Scully shoots back, allowing a hint of laughter in her tone. "Now _that's_ verymature, Mulder." He gives her a pair of puppy dog eyes in response, and she feels flushed all over again.

"Aw, come on, Scully. Live a little." He goes back to dab his fingers in the paint and starts making lop-sided dots all over the canvas.

"Now what are you doing?"

"'Exploring my inner artist,'" he answers, his voice heavy with mockery. Scully faces her own canvas and stares at it for a while. "What are you gonna paint?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll paint a rabbit…or a frog." She sticks the tips of her fingers in the Forest Green paint and creates a vague impression of an oval body and two circles on top for eyes.

"The eyes should be yellow. Not green."

"What?"

Mulder points to the eyes on her "frog," and repeats, "The eyes should be yellow."

"Who says?" Scully asks defensively. "Maybe my 'inner artist' thinks they should be green."

"Well, then your 'inner artist' is wrong," he replies matter-of-factly. Their lips curl into reluctant smiles simultaneously, and all Scully can do is swipe her green fingers at his face, leaving three long, green streaks from one cheek to the other. "Hey!" he whines, batting her hand away.

"Fair is fair," she giggles, returning her attention to her personalized frog. Just then, his hand whips out in front of her, leaving two carelessly placed, yellow smudge marks over the frog's formerly green eyes.

"See? Doesn't that look better?" he grins, displaying a whole set of pearly white teeth.

Scully pretends to consider it. "Yeah, actually, it does." Mulder notes the sarcasm in her voice and leaps to his canvas protectively…but she's faster. His board now has a dainty, green handprint right in the center, and his shirt displays its reflection. "Now, doesn't that look better?" Scully giggles.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he sits, dabs his thumb in a mix of colors, and doctors up the handprint until he is satisfied. She watches intently, and when she figures out what he is doing, she can't help but laugh. "There," he blurts, signaling the completion of his first masterpiece. He leans back in his chair and, like a proud father, announces, "I'll call it…turkey."

Scully drops her chin to her chest, stifling another laugh. "Now _that_ is original."

"Thank you." He turns his attention to her poor excuse for a frog. "Shall we work on yours now?"

"What's wrong with my froggy?" she pouts, sticking out her bottom lip. For the slightest fraction of a second, Mulder focuses on her lip, and if it hadn't been for the blush that followed, she would have not even noticed. In her own little fantasy world, he would have leaned forward and taken her lip in his mouth, biting it slightly, his tongue begging her mouth for entrance. And in that split second, she sees that it is possible he has the same fantasy. His eyes lock with hers, and there is no longer doubt in her mind. They are dark. Almost black. Suddenly, the moment passes with them both blinking it away, and they turn to face their own paintings. "You know what?" she finally says, hoping her voice doesn't come out huskily.

"What?"

"You were right. Yellow does look better." He nods uncomfortably and looks at her frog.

"There is nothing wrong with your froggy," he says a little too seriously for the moment.

Another blush sweeps across her cheeks, and she is thankful there is paint there to hide it. "Thank you." As if the moment could not get any better, leans forward…closer…closer…and closer to her face. _This is it!_ she squeals in her mind. She barely opens her mouth and closes her eyes. But her lips are not met with his. No. In fact, her lips are not met with anything. Her eyes flutter open at the confusing sensation of something slimy on her neck. _Oh, my God!_ "Mulder!" Bright pink paint slides down her neck and chest in glumps. He sits back laughing in his seat. "You got it all down my blouse!" she accuses.

"I'll be happy to clean it for you," he teases. At this, she grabs a rag from the easel and throws it at his face. "It's not permanent. Besides, you don't even like that blouse. That's why I told you to wear it."

"So you could soak it with paint?" she interrogates angrily. Her face is hot and flustered.

Sincerely concerned, Mulder stops laughing and faces her. "Why are you mad?"

"Why am I _mad_?" she echoes. "Because I thought you were going to" She stops short.

"What?"

Realizing just how flushed she is, she retreats to her frog painting, avoiding his view. "Nothing. Never mind. I'm fine." Mulder shrugs. Internally, he knows exactly what she was going to say but doesn't want her to know. The truth is, he almost did kiss her…again. But this is neither the time nor the place.

"Look, I'm sorry," he tries, grabbing her shoulder and unintentionally leaving another pink handprint as evidence. "Next time, I promise I won't use pink." He thinks he hears her laugh. "How's orange?"

She turns to face him, and this time, she has a tube of white paint in her hands. She squeezes it blindly, but where it lands causes them both to blush fiercely. "Oops," she snorts, slapping her hand over her mouth. Mulder looks down at his jeans. Sure enough, white paint is blotched right where the two inseams meet. "I am so sorry," she giggles, trying with all her might not to laugh.

He looks up at her, shock in his eyes and a vengeful smile playing across his lips. He looks around to see if anyone is watching, but their carefully chosen seats promise that no one is. "That, G-woman, is gonna cost you," he teases just as he grabs the tube of black paint and squeezes some of its contents onto his hand. Not quite sure what to expect, she watches nervously as he rubs his hands together, smearing the paint evenly over the surface of his palms and up this fingers. "This is war!" He lunges at her, and they fall behind a wall of boxes in a tangled mess. It takes every ounce of his willpower to not kiss her, and she is too embarrassed from before to even consider the thought. After only a few seconds, they stand and look around. A few students take notice of their appearance and laugh, but for the most part, no one is paying attention. The teacher is off in her own little world. "Hey, Scully," Mulder grins, pointing at the professor's painting. "What does that look like to you?"

Scully straightens her partially black hair and squints her eyes. "A tooth?" she smiles.

"Well, I think our frog and turkey are a lot better than that," he nods thoughtfully. She mimics his behavior and agrees. He turns to face her and looks her up and down for the first time since their rough-housing experience. "Oh, my gosh," he suddenly laughs.

"What?" Scully follows his gaze to her blouse and her mouth drops open. "What did you do?"

"Apparently something very inappropriate," he chokes, gawking at her even more inappropriately.

"Apparently!" she laughs. On her blouse, there are two very wet, black handprints…one over each breast. "Oh, man. I feel like Barbra Streisand in _Funny Girl_."

"Yeah, except those were light handprints on a black outfit, and these are black handprints"

"Shut up," she interrupts, rolling her eyes yet again.

"Just tryin' to help."

"Oh, I think you've helped enough."

"Okay, if you're gonna get all uptight about this, then maybe you don't want to see the back of you."

Scully's eyes go wide. "What do you mean?" He shrugs. "Mulder?" Instead of answering, he points to a full-length mirror on the wall by the boxes. She walks toward it at a speed one would expect to see a man walk to his own execution. (And the fear on her face is probably just as comparative.) Once in front of the mirror, she turns around and looks back at it. "Mulder?"

"Yes, dear?" he calls sweetly, hoping humor will defuse the bomb about to go off.

"Guess where I have two _more_ matching handprints," she says, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Hmmm, let's see here…on your back?"

"Lower," she growls.

"On your legs?"

"Higher," she growls again. Mulder leans his chair back to catch a nice, clear view of her butt in the mirror. Yep. There they are. One black handprint on each cheek. Despite himself, he laughs.

"That's not funny," she whines, not angry anymore. "I have to go home like this."

"I'll tell you what. I'll put one of my old shirts on the seat in the car so that you don't have to worry about getting paint on the upholstery, and when we get to your building, I'll just follow you up with my hands covering the handprints." She isn't mad, but she doesn't seem to be amused either. "So, which ones should I cover?" he adds with a stifled chuckle.

She opens her mouth to say something, but the teacher speaks first. "Okay, everyone. Good first day. These paintings you've done today will not be graded. However they will serve as a 'before' picture, if you will. Your last project in the class will be compared to these, hopefully to measure your improvement. So, please leave them here, and be sure you have signed your works of art. Class dismissed."

Mulder and Scully exchange glances and then look at their crappy paintings. "Well, that's a relief," Mulder sighs as he signs his painting the way a four-year-old might.

"What? Suddenly your turkey isn't good enough for this art class?"

"No. I was talking about your mutant frog." She tosses him a cold stare for a couple seconds before signing her painting and leaving for the sink. _This was fun_, he muses, watching her butt as she goes.


	3. Nude Models

The next few class periods are spent going over the semester's syllabus and getting familiar with the different art materials. Especially the sculpting clay. Two and a half weeks straight, Scully shakes her head condescendingly at her partner every time he makes something nasty with the clay and waves it in her face. "Mulder," she finally chides, "you are disgusting!" They are sitting in their office, and Scully is struggling to finish their report for Skinner while her imaginative partner "practices" his sculpting. "Are you gonna help me with this?"

"But you're doing so well without me. I would just slow you down."

Scully tilts her head and raises an eyebrow acknowledging that he is probably right. The only reason his being off task even bothers her is because she wishes she could be off task, too. Unfortunately, at least one of them has to remain on task at all times, andalso unfortunately for hershe is always that one. After another few minutes, she happily clicks "save" and then "print." "Done," she sighs contentedly.

"We're done?" Mulder beams, rising from his chair.

"_We_? We who, Mulder?" He gives her an apologetic look, and she accepts it with her own look.

"So, are you ready for class?"

"Almost," she mumbles, finalizing a few last things. Then, she smiles and says, "Ready."

In the car, she pulls out her copy of the syllabus. "Huh," she grunts thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Well, today they are having the nude models come into class today. Looks like those improper figures you have been sculpting lately may come in handy after all."

"Well, whada-ya-know?" he grins.

When they walk into the classroom, Mulder is literally pushing past Scully to see if the models are there yet. "God, Mulder, you are pathetic."

"Not true, Scully. I was merely making sure it was decent for you."

"Sure," she mutters, pulling him back behind her. He follows her to their seats. "Hey, we're early."

"You'd think she'd be here by now."

"Who? The professor?"

"No, the model."

"Mulder, I don't see what the big deal is. You have a shelf of porn and a twenty-year collection of _Playboy_ sitting at home. Why should this be any better?" she asks, taking a sip from her water bottle.

Mulder gives her an _isn't-it-obvious?_ expression. "Because this one will actually be in person." A sudden burst of laughter causes the water to flow down the wrong pipe, and she starts coughing. Mulder finds this response more insulting that amusing…insulting that she would laugh in the first place. "That sounded really pathetic, didn't it?" he shrugs.

When she catches her breath, she answers, "Not at all. If anything, I thought that was very entertaining, and it certainly satiated a particular curiosity for me."

"What's that?" he asks, suddenly curious of what she means.

"Oh, nothing…just that it's been a while since…well, y'know." She slightly blushes.

"Hey-hey-hey," Mulder waves his hands, "be nice." It is silent for a while before he speaks again. "Well, how long has it been since you've…"

She gives him a stern _none-of-your-business_ glare, but falls back in her chair. "A long time."

"Well, for what it's worth, me too." He starts to reach for her hand when the female model enters. She is wearing a robe, but she may as well be wearing a plastic bag. Scully watches painfully as Mulder's eyes plunge out of their sockets before returning back just as quickly. "There she is," he grins.

Scully tries to hide the jealously in her voice as she agrees, "Yeah. She sure is pretty."

Almost half of class passes by while Scully watches Mulder sculpt the model's every curve. At one point, she is staring at his sculpture so intently that he laughs. "Jealous, are you?"

"Of her?"

His laugh is cut short. "No, actually. I meant of my sculpting talent." She looks down at her clay and realizes she has barely done a thing to it since it was given to her. "Why would you be jealous of the model?" he asks, leaving her to wonder if he is setting her up for delight or disappointment.

"Because…" she gulps uneasily, "…she's got _the perfect body_ that every guy looks for in a girl."

Mulder appears to consider this. "So do you," he shrugs, as though it isn't a big secret.

"Mulder, she's tall; I'm short. She's a brunette; I'm a redhead."

"You're _petite_, and I heard red is the new brown," he grins, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. "Besides, you make it sound like that's every guys' type."

"It's yours," she blurts, confident that she made her point. _What point was that again?_

"So? Why does that matter to you?" _Leave it to Mulder to ask the million dollar questions._

"Itit doesn't, I guess," she stutters, unsure how to continue the conversation. For a while, it just drops. Her relief is obvious when the model replaces her robe and starts to leave.

"Scully, you're really gonna to turn in _that_?" She glances at the syllabus in her folder and smiles widely.

"Hey, guess what, Mulder? We have a choice of which sculpture we rather turn into her."

"What do you mean?" he asks, getting excited by the idea of another model coming in…that is until he hears the roomof mostly girlsgo silent. "Wait a second," he mutters. "Who's that?"

Scully looks up from the paper, and suddenly, she feels like she has a fever. "Oh, boy," she whispers, wetting her lips that have just gone dry. Mulder looks at her face and follows her gaze back to the man before them. "Is that the _real_ James Bond?" Scully gapes, allowing the folder to drop freely from her hand. She was aiming for her bag, but since she didn't make sure her bag was even there first, she has no idea where the folder landed. She doesn't even care. She'll get it later.

"Scully?" Mulder whispers, tempted to wave his hand in front of her face. But judging by that stare, it wouldn't do any good whatsoever. She'd be staring right through his hand to see the guy that is now undressing right in front of them. Mulder watches uncomfortably as her cheeks flush, maybe even more than they do when he toys with her. "Dana?" he tries again.

Her mouth is moving, but no sound comes out…scratch that…little incoherent squeaks come out. Finally, he grabs her arm, and she almost jumps from her chair. "Holy shMulder, you scared me!"

"Well, excuse me!" he whines. "I was justScully? Scully? Dana!" Her eyes keep focusing on the naked male model in the center of the classroom, and Mulder has had enough. "Maybe we should go."

"NO!" she exclaims with more force than she had intended. Professor Glitter is introducing him while Scully eyes her partner and says, "I have a feeling I'll do better on this sculpture than I did on the last one." With that, she faces forward, andfor the first time todaypays attention to the assignment at hand…literally.

Mulder leans back in his seat. _So this is what it feels like to get a taste of your own medicine._ "He's not even that impressive." Scully darts her eyes at him with a hint of amusement. A while after the class has been set free to use the rest of the period sculpting _this_ model, Mulder insists, "Well, he's not."

Scully works her clay almost inappropriately in her hands…not too differently than her partner had been only a half hour before. She chuckles to herself and replies, "Oh, Mulder…just because this guy is…very well _endowed_…doesn't make you any less of a man." She almost giggles at his reaction, but stifles it just in time. Without even meaning to, she adds, "Well, maybe a _little _less." Realizing the words had slipped from her lips before she could stop them, her eyes widen in partial embarrassment and partial remorse. Mulder looks like he has just been socked in the stomach…maybe even lower. "I am so sorry," she half giggles.

"That was convincing," he says dryly. Scully's just happy he can speak at all.

"No, seriously. I _never_ meant to say that out loud." That doesn't seem to help either. _Gee. I wonder why?_ she muses rather giddily, noting that the tables have turned.

Mulder tries to sit up straight, forcing confidence in his voice. "Well, I hate to be a buzz kill, but if you are under the impression that _that _is well-endowed, then you have had a very mediocre sex-life."

Her chin drops and her eyebrows jump to attention. Turning back to the clay in front of her to make one final touch, she shakes her head at him in disbelief. "Now, look who's jealous."

He examines her sculpture from his seat and slumps against his desk…pouting. _Her sculpture of Tarzan over here, looks better than mine of Jane._ He can only find humor in his new nickname for the man who has stole his partner's hearteven if he doesn't particularly resemble the classic Ape Man. _All of a sudden, now she's good at art_, he continues to mope internally. After she finishes her final touch, her first true masterpiece is complete, with almost fifteen minutes to spare. "You're done?" She nods proudly. "Good. Can we go now?"

"Awww. Is Mulder having an identity crisis?" she teases using a form of baby talk.

"No," he throws back. It occurs to him that he isn't helping his case by acting like that baby she has depicted him to be. Attempting a more masculine approach, he says, "I'm going to miss the game."

"What game?"

"Uhhh, basketball. The basketball game that's on tonight."

Scully raises a skeptical brow. "Who's playing?"

"What do you care? You don't even like basketball."

"I care because I happen to know it's not even basketball season. It's football season. But you knew that," she grins. He did, actually, but he didn't think she did. He just decided to use basketball because he knew he would be more apt to watch basketball than football. _When did she get into sports, anyway?_

"Okay, Scully. You got me. The truth is…" He looks awkwardly the unclothed man and then back to her. "…I don't feel comfortable." She gives him a look that says _surprise, surprise!_

"Is it about what I said?" she asks.

"No…well, maybe…I don't know." He breaks the eye contact between them, suddenly feeling overexposed. "I'm sorry about what I said. I'm sure you've had a"

"Non-mediocre sex-life?" she finishes with a grin. He blushes and offers a small nod. "We can leave early on one condition," she deals, giving her best poker face. He looks up almost hoping her answer is half as good as the inappropriate one he wants to say, but suddenly, his joke doesn't seem quite as funny. There are times for nasty humor, and there are times for intimate silence. "We talk about what's going on between us." That is her deal. They could stay, or they could go. But if they go, they talk.

At the moment, Mulder can't think of anything he'd rather do. "Let's talk."

They decide to take the path through the park. It is just late enough in the day that the kids are home eating dinner, but just early enough that it is still light. Scully has her arm looped through his, while he keeps his hands buried in his toasty warm pockets. The speed at which they are walking is relaxed and allows her to rest her head comfortably on his shoulder. "What do you want to talk about?" he asks, perhaps nervously.

"You and me…us."

"Is there an _us_?"

"I guess that's what we need to talk about." Her grip tightens around his arm, and his body aches to hold her in response, but they keep on walking. "Mulder, this class has been fun, and it has taught me a lot…more than I thought it would."

"What do you mean? All we've really done so far is finger paint and play with clay."

"Well, even you must admit I have come a long way with those." They both laugh, comfortably taking in the scenery. He agrees with a soft grunt, but then becomes quiet again. "But it's the other things I've learned in these past few weeks that will really stay with me." She stops and turns to face him.

"How well-endowed _real_ men are?" he teases, afraid to walk further into the sea of emotion, so profound and so beautiful. She is leading him there, asking him to join her. But he is afraid. He is afraid that he might drown, but he is even more afraid that she will. _She thinks she knows me so well, but she doesn't. If she did, she would know that once I tell her I love her, there is no going back to the way things were._ His desire to be with her, and his love for her are so strong, he is afraid he will suffocate her or scare her away.

"Fair is fair," she smiles, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Mulder remembers how she felt when he had been gawking at the female model when class had begun. Nodding his acceptance and rolling his eyesmore at himself than at herhe agrees, "Fair is fair."

"So, what do you say we have a seat?"

"Okay." They sit on a wooden bench nearby and watch as colors form on the horizon. "I'm sorry about the way I was acting. I shouldn't have made you feel like I think you are unattractive. Whether you are 'my type' or not, though, I do think you are beautiful." She listens but doesn't analyze his words too much. The moment is relaxed. If he feels like getting some things off of his chest, all the better. "And just so we're clear, tall and brunette isn't really my type anymore."

"No?" she hums. "Since when? I've seen those magazines you like. Are you into blonds now?"

He knows she is toying with him. She is being facetious and genuinely curious at the same time. It seems to Mulder that she is trying to only _sound_ facetious. "No, I'm not. I've never been into blonds." They both cringe at his poor choice of wording. "I mean, they've never been my type. And I guess, tall and brunette hasn't been my type for a few years."

"What changed your mind?"

_What? Or who?_ "I don't know," he shrugs, watching the sun fall behind the trees.

Scully slumps sadly against the back of the bench. "Let's go home, Mulder. It's late."

He knows what she wanted him to say, and he would have loved nothing more than to be able to, but there is too much at risk. Mostly, a friendship he values way too much about to muck up. "Okay."


	4. Ghost

"Did everyone remember to bring in a porcelain piece?" asks Professor Glitter.

Almost all of the students raise a variety of white figures in their hands, ranging from dishes to statues. "Oh, crap!" Mulder shrugs, watching as Scully holds up her shiny vase.

"Oh, don't worry, Mulder," she grins, "I brought an extra." She studies his face merrily as he accepts an identical, dainty vase from her other hand. "What? Too feminine?" she teases.

"Well, it's not exactly what I would have brought." He looks it up and down discontentedly.

"Maybe next time, you'll remember to bring your own." She gives him a little smirk, but all he can offer in return is a weak, lop-sided smile.

"Thanks."

"No problem. So, what do you plan on painting on it? Flowers? Maybe, Forget-me-nots? Those are pretty and easy to paint." Mulder raises a displeased eyebrow to her playful taunting. "Well?"

"What the hell would you know about painting Forget-me-nots?"

"My grandmother used to china paint. It relaxed her. They were her favorite flowers to paint because they are 'the easiest, fastest, and most leisurely,' as she would say."

"Oh. Well, I think I'm up for the challenge of something a little more masculine."

"Suit yourself," she says, getting up to gather their materials. "Just a suggestion."

While Scully tranquilly brushed a soft mix of blue and purple clouds and wipes back little white pedals, Mulder fusses with his spaceship. "Who would have thought a spaceship would be hard?"

"Mulder, for one thing, I think it's difficult mostly because you insisted on painting it on the neck of the vase, which is too thin for something like that"

"But it has to be at the top," he interrupts. "How else would I fit in the cows it's gonna be abducting?" She rolls her eyes before finishing her thought.

"It might also be easier if you weren't so adamant on making the spaceship look authentic."

"If I don't make it look authentic, it will look stupid."

"And it doesn't now?" she responds dryly. "Besides, Mulder, keep in mind that these will be fired a few times before we are finished. You'll have plenty of chances to make it look authentic. Just remember to start with the lighter colors and shades, and with each firing, you can used darker ones."

"I thought you didn't like art. Didn't you tell me when we started this that you sucked at it?"

"Just because I know what I'm talking about doesn't make it any easier for me to actually paint. I told you already that that is why I'm doing these." She gestures to her flowers, which are coming along nicely. "I'm almost done with my first coat."

"Well, yay for you," he whines. "I don't see why we have to do china-painting anyway. This was more fun when"

"You were good at it?" she suggests, hoping to prove a point she had made long ago.

Mulder huffs and goes back to his project. After he decides to leave his spaceship as is, he starts on the cows. They are really hard. "Hell with authentic," he mutters. _I should have painted those damn flowers._

The end of the period comes quickly, and Scully proudly places her vase in the kiln. "Mulder, are you done?" He gives her a _one second_ gesture with his index finger as he swipes the brush over the porcelain a few last times. Then he brings it to her. "What happened to your spaceship? And your cows?"

"Apparently I'm much better at _Forget-me-nots_," he mumbles, barely audibly.

"Awww. This class is really testing your security as a man, isn't it?" she almost laughs.

Then, the teacher begins, "Okay, I've decided to let you pick our next project. Everyone write what they would like to do on one of these little pieces of scratch paper and put it in this coffee can before you leave. Majority rules." Mulder is the first student to get his hands on the scratch paper. He grabs two pieces.

"You want mine?" Scully offers, handing it back to him. "I don't really care what we do next."

"Sure. Thanks." He starts scribbling something on them just out of her sight and then places them into the tin. She looks at him questioningly. "Since I enjoyed working with the clay, I thought it'd be fun to try pottery. I've always wanted to use that spinning thing."

"The wheel?" Scully clarifies. She considers the thought and chuckles.

"What?"

"Nothing." He gives her a look that tells her that answer won't work this time. "It's just that it's a little embarrassing." Still, no mercy. "Okay," she surrenders. "Whenever I think about using the pottery wheel, I always think about that scene from _Ghost_. Y'know, that…_suggestive_ scene?"

This is amusing. "Does that sort of thing turn you on, Scully?" Mulder teases, stepping closer to her.

Her heart rate begins to climb, and somewhere in the back of her mind she can picture the scene, but rather than Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore, she and Mulder are molding the clay. Molding… Squeezing… Shaping… Working the wet clay in their entangled fingers… Slip and slurry dry and crust up on their arms and legs. She watches the fantasy…watches as he kisses the back of her neck, and rub his hands up and down her inner thighs, covering them with dirty water. She can almost feel it. A soft moan escapes her lips, and she squeezes the clay in her hands so tightly that it collapses into a small pile of mud.

"Scully?"

"Huh?" Her face is flushed, and a begging sensation is overwhelming her in a place that aches for attention and contact. She notices Mulder looking down at her with a mixture of concern and arousal in his eyes. "What just happened?" she asks.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he answers. "Your breathing was irregular, and I think you moaned something, but I couldn't understand what you said."

"What were we talking about?" She seems nervous and embarrassed to him. Her cheeks are so red, and her eyes appear to be darker. Her freckles are slightly more noticeable in this light.

"I was just asking if…" He doesn't want to embarrass her further. "you wanted to get dinner."

_God, he's beautiful_, she sadly ruminates. She wants to go with him, but it's too painful. When she is with him, all she can think about is how much she wants more. At least when she's home…alone…there's plenty to take her mind off of him. Or she can sleep…and dream…allow the images to present themselves, so perfect and so real. She loves dreaming, and she wishes she could sleep forever. At least in her dreams, they can be together. But here in the conscious world, they cannot. It breaks her heart. _Go with him, Dana. Maybe tonight will be the night. Go with him._ "Sorry, Mulder, but I have stuff I gotta do at home tonight."

He looks hurt, but recovers his composure quickly to hide his true feelings. "Oh. Okay." He sucks his cheeks in and bites the inside of one of them. "Well, maybe another time," he nods, trying to be strong.

With that, he leaves the classroom. Scully remains, staring at the empty spot in front of her. _You are such a fool,_ she scolds herself. Realizing that everyone has left and she is alone, she lets herself cry. The tears are still quietly gliding down her face even as she drives home. When she gets there, she changes into a pair of pajamas and curls up on the couch with her afghan. She turns on the TV but keeps the sound down. The light murmur and flashing images make her feel less lonely, even when she closes her eyes. Rolling onto her other side, she snuggles into the back of the couch and pulls the blanket up to her neck.

_She feels him. She feels his weight around her. She feels him but doesn't see him. A pottery wheel sits in front of her, and heap of plastic clay rests in the center of the circle. Pressing her foot slowly on the pedal, the wheel begins to turn. She kneads the clay in her hands, misting it with a handful of slip. She quickens the pace of her foot and starts to shape the clay with her fingertips. He is holding her. She still can't see him, but she knows he's there. He has his hands on her body, burning her flesh wherever he touches. Soon, her whole body is ablaze with passion, craving him thoroughly. The clay in her hands no longer resembles anything close to the pot she had begun to create. She drops it back on the wheel and wipes her hands on her clothes. She feels him kissing her neck, and his invisible hands continue to explore her body. She turns to kiss him back, and suddenly, she can see him. He is even more gorgeous than he has ever been, and he pulls her onto her couch with him. It is everything she has ever wanted and more._

The phone rings, and Dana just about pulls the cord from the wall. "No!" she cries out, praying for her dream to return. Another piercing ring murders any chance of her prayer being answered. "Scully," she drones into the receiver, her disappointment making her voice sound almost threatening.

"It's me," Mulder replies. "Are you okay?"

Scully considers this and is tempted to tell him the truth. _No. I'm miserable._ "I'm fine."

"I was thinking about how you said you had stuff to do tonight, and I was wondering if you needed any help…or company. It wouldn't be any trouble because I'm pretty bored, and I could be there in five minutes." Dana thinks about her dream. There are two possible answers here: she could say yes, or she could say no. If she says no, nothing changes. If she says yes, either nothing changes or everything could change. _If he does come over, am I going to be able to stand not telling him how I feel? Not touch him? Not feel him the way I did in my dream? Or what if I do tell him…do touch him…do feel him? I guess the question is: what do I really want?_ "You still with me, Scully?"

"I'm here, Mulder. Iuhfinished what I was doing, but if you're bored, I certainly wouldn't mind the company. Have you eaten?"

"Actually, I haven't. You?"

"No. I can order a pizza."

"Sounds good. I'll see you when I get there."

She hangs up the phone and goes into the bathroom to look in the mirror. _What am I doing?_ Noticing that her pajamas are damp with sweat, she looks for a fresh pair. _Wait a second. Pajamas?_ Running to her closet, she grabs a clean pair of jeans and a shirt instead. _Woops! That V-neck won't do at all._ She tries on a turtle neck and throws a blazer over it. _Damn, Dana! This isn't work. You're at home._ She decides on clean pajama pants and a T-shirt. Comfortable, casual, and not too revealing. Perfect.

There is a familiar knock on the door just as she finishes placing her order. She hangs up the phone and answers the door. "Hey," she smiles.

"Hey." He is wearing jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and his black leather jacket. "Mind if I come in?"

"Oh, sorry," she jumps, stepping out of the way. While he isn't looking, she slides her hand down her face, stretching her skin as she does so. _Great start, Dana. That's good. Just keep staring at him._

"I brought something," he announces, holding up a video.

She almost has a heart attack when she sees what movie it is. "Oh…_ Ghost_."

"Yep. I figured since you like it so much…" He is teasing her. Then, he slips it into the VCR.

"Yay." _This will be easier than I thought. I'll be too busy hiding my face to make a move on him._

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. "You've been acting kinda…different ever since…"

_The walk in the park?_ "I'm fine. Really. Just tired," she insists. They both drop the subject. The movie starts, the pizza comes, Mulder pays, and the movie finishes. All in all, the night goes seamlessly. Scully even lived through the pottery scene. At one in the morning, Mulder has his second yawn attack.

"Well, I guess I'll get going," he says between two more vicious yawns.

"Will you be able to drive? Maybe you should just" Her breath catches in her throat. _Oh no! What are you thinking? Abort! Abort!_

"Stay the night?" he finishes nonchalantly.

_Shit!_

To be fair, it wouldn't be the first time. Mulder has spent many nights on her couch in the past, as she has done so on his. But things are different now…not by much, but different nonetheless. Scully has always had feelings for Mulder. She has always respected him, but it is more than that, too. It was his determination and uncompromising passion that attracted her to him at firstand still does. But she soon found that she harbored other feelings for him as well. Feelings that, up until somewhat recently, she didn't think he returned. But now… _It's okay. I can do this._ "Yeah," she finally answers.

"Sounds good," he replies, stretching his arms above his head. "Thanks."

"No problem. Let me just get you a clean blanket and a pillow."

"I don't mind using this blanket. No need for you to dirty one on my behalf." Before she can argue, he plops on the couch with her afghan. "Besides, this one smells like you."

"Good night, Mulder," she smiles.

"Night," he whispers. She wants so badly to join him there and bring her dream to life, but she doesn't. She has a feeling that if she did, he wouldn't push her away. No. He would welcome her. She goes to bed knowing in her heart that he would have her the second she gives herself to him. But she wouldn't tonight. Not yet. As much as she longs to feel him _everywhere_, she will wait.


	5. Paper Mache and Coiling

A few weeks have passed since they started their china painting projects, and Monday was finally the day to turn them in to Professor Glitter. Today is Wednesday, and Scully is running around her apartment trying to get ready to go. She grabs her keys and locks the door. Looking at her watch, she cringes and realizes there is no way she'll make it on time. "Mulder," says her partner when he answers his cell.

"Hey, it's me. I'm going to be a few minutes late."

"Okay. We find out what our new project is today. I hope it's pottery."

"Me too, Mulder," she lies. "See you when I get there."

She screeches into a parking spot and half walks, half jogs to the art room. "Hey. What'd I miss?"

Mulder moves some of his stuff off her desk that he had placed there to save her seat. "Well, we found out what our new project is," he shrugs disappointedly.

Scully tries to put on a sympathetic face when she says, "Not pottery, huh?" He shakes his head. "What is it, then?"

"Paper mache."

"You're kidding!"

"Unfortunately, no." He taps his fingernails on his desk and adds, "But she did say we are going to do coiling for our next project after this."

Scully gives a weak smile. _What disgusting things could this man **possibly** do with coiling?_ She knows the answer. _A lot._ "Sounds like fun." She sits down to face the center of the room. The professor has just finished her demonstration on how to do paper mache, and Scully has missed the whole thing. "Damn."

"That's okay, Scully. I'll help you," Mulder grins, giving her a wink.

_You are certainly a man of mixed signals_, she thinks miserably, with a little frustration.

Pulling wire, cardboard, and balloons from heap of materials in the center of the room, Mulder builds what almost looks like the top half of an alien spaceship. Scully rolls her eyes and scoffs. "What?"

"You are so predictable," she says.

"What do you mean?" He points at his creation in progress. "This?"

"Why do you try to turn _everything_ into a spaceship?"

"Hey, first of all, _this_ is not _everything_. Second of all, I painted a turkey…"

"Because I had made a handprint on your canvas."

He looks at her, squinting his eyes, and continues, "…then I sculpted a human…"

"Because she had big breasts."

"…then I painted _Forget-me-nots_…"

"Because the spaceship and cows were too hard," she interrupts again, smirking.

"You just have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"Face it, Mulder. You are a predictable guy in almost every way, shape, and form."

"How so?" He looks insulted but curious nonetheless.

"I'll prove it." She rips a piece of binder paper from her notebook and grabs a pen. "I am going to make secret predictions about anything of my choosing, and I'll show each one to you after the act or event I choose to predict." He raises a skeptical brow. "I won't cheat. You have my word, and I know that's enough for you." His shoulders rise and drop as he considers the idea.

"Okay then. You do that." She quickly writes her first prediction. "…but for the record, it's not a spaceship. It's gonna be a sombrero!" He sees her begin to laugh and, with caution, looks to see what she had written. Word for word, it reads: _For the record, it's not a spaceship. It's a sombrero_. "Jesus, I can't be _that_ predictable!"

"Don't worry about it, Mulder. Sometimes predictability is a comfort."

"Well, you are predictable to me," he smiles.

"Yes, Mulder. You know me like no other." She makes her voice sound sarcastic, even though it's very true. If only she could, for once, be unpredictable and tell him how she feels…or if he could…that would sure be nice. "I wonder what I'll make. Maybe a piñata or something like that."

He shrugs and nods his head, letting her know her idea is…good…but not as creative as his _sombrero_. When they have both finished the skeletons of their projects, Mulder grabs a bucket of ripped up newspapers and a bucket of diluted glue. "Here we are," he announces, setting them on the table between them. "Okay. First, you wanna take a strip of the newspaper, dip it in the glue, and then drape it on like this." He demonstrates the procedure for her a couple more times even though she has already gotten it. It kinda reminds her of the whole baseball lesson. She had gotten the message, "hips before hands," long before he was done "showing" her. She just liked his hands on her body. This time, she just drowns him out, lost in her own little world, until…

"Mulder!" she squeals. Watery glue soaks her hair and drips down her face and neck, some getting in her mouth. "Bleh!" She spits the horrible-tasting liquid from her mouth and wipes it from her lips.

"You weren't listening!" he accuses immaturely. Surely, he thinks that is a fine excuse to dump glue all over her. She scowls at him threateningly, but he only grins in return. "Hey, Scully," he laughs, sticking his hand in her already stiffening hair, "I'm stuck on you!" She is not amused. "You're no fun," he whines.

"Oh, yeah?" She grabs the bucket of glue and splashes it down the front of him. While he stands in shock, she looks at the newspaper shreds and smiles. Finishing him off with those, she steps back and nods. "Well, Fox Mulder, I'd say you've just been tarred and feathered the _paper mache-way_."

"That was just wrong," he accuses, faking a shiver for a pathetic attempt to gain sympathy.

"Any more wrong than what you did to me?" He huffs and starts to walk to the sink, which sits under a tattered, square mirror. "Oh, Mulder," she calls sweetly as he picks newspaper from his clothes and hair, "you missed a spot."

"Look who's talking!" He grabs her arm, a little more roughly than he means to, and draws her toward the sink. She stands in front of him with a hint of a smirk on her face, wondering what he has in store for her now. To her surprise, but not dismay, he takes the sponge, wets it, and gently wipes dried glue from her face. He seems to be concentrating on the sponge, but when she isn't looking, his gaze drops to her face. She looks back at him, and his eyes quickly advert back to the sponge. "There. Besides you hair and shirt, that looks a lot better." She grins barely. "Sorry 'bout your hair and shirt, by the way."

"No problem. Sorry I…well, actually, I'm not sorry about the tarring and feathering, but I do hope it's easy enough to clean." All of a sudden, someone is clearing an impatient throat at them. "Huh?"

"Excuse me," snarls a young student, probably about eighteen or nineteen years of age.

Mulder and Scully step apart and away from the sink, allowing the girl to wash her hands. Mulder blushes and bites his lip. "Guess we were in the way. You ever notice how we are the only ones that make a scene in here but no one really seems to care? I mean, I feel like we are the only ones enjoying ourselves."

"I guess it does seem backwards a bit, but then again, I'm not at all familiar with the natural atmosphere of a community college art class. Maybe we are the ones out of the norm."

He realizes his sombrero is almost dry and ready for its next coat. Scully watches him scamper to it, while she looks at her piñata discontentedly. Mulder had suggested she make it heart-shaped, joking of course, but the idea struck her in a witty way. She decided that would be exactly what she would do. And using her medical knowledge and morbid professional medical experience, she was able to create a vague model of the human heart. Using the paper mache to smoothen it out, she decided to go ahead and stick to it…as much as she may regret it now. Mulder, of course, dropped his head in amusement, and perhaps embarrassment, when he figured out what his false suggestion was leading to… "Go figure," he had said.

Now, he gives her nothing but quirky compliments on the progress she is making, including, "Hey, all that _heart_ work has been paying off," and "You are working so diligently that your piñata will be _pumping _in no time." While she doesn't always find his comments clever or even funny, she tries to make herself appear as though she does. "Scully, when you finish your heart, maybe we can donate it to Smoking Man."

"I'm afraid that would be a waste of a perfectly good piece of art, Mulder. Besides, I have a feeling he would have a lot more fun for that sombrero of yours."

He clutches it protectively to his chest. "I don't think so. This is mine." She chuckles and shakes her head. The class period ends quickly, but they are happy to see the paper mache step completed. To speed up the drying process, Professor Glitter had brought a hair dryer. "Thank God," Mulder sighs. "Next week we can paint these damn things and then be done with them forEVER!" He puts his arm around his partner, and they walk to her car. "So, you have any plans tonight?"

"Yes, Mulder…a very hot date, actually," she grins. He rolls his eyes.

"Well, then you'll have to call and cancel because look what I got." He holds up his hands, and between his fingers are two small pieces of paper. "Tickets," he clarifies, handing them to her.

"Mulder, the science fair?"

"Yeah! It's the coolest… Well, I shouldn't have to tell you."

"How much did these tickets cost?"

He purses his lips in an offended pout. "Nothing. They were free."

"Let's do something else instead, then. I'm tired of work, and I'm sorry, but science feels like work right now. How 'bout we go…"

"…Buy some clay so we can practice coiling for next Wednesday?" he blurts hopefully.

"That's not at all what I was going to say, but…okay." She's tired of art, too, because now that they are taking a class on it, it has lost its leisurely aspect…but why not? As long as she is with him, what does it matter what they do? "Well, I'll meet you at your apartment after I get the clay," she offers.

Mulder considers this but insists, "I'll get the clay and meet you there. You look like you can use the quiet time to get some rest anyway." She closes her eyes and smiles warmly at his chivalry.

"Thanks." With that, she gets in her car and drives home to his apartment…_home_? The thinks about this as she uses her key to get inside and drops her things by the couch. _I guess this is just as much my home as my own apartment is…just as mine is his, as well._ She lies down on the couch and nods off to sleep.

Mulder unlocks his door to find his partner fast asleep, facing the back of the couch. _Must be a cozy position for her_, he decides, having seen her sleep like that many times. He sets the package of clay on the coffee table and sits on the couch behind her knees. Stroking her back, he stares at her and wishes he had the courage to tell her. Nope. Not yet. Soon, but not yet. She begins to stir, so he rubs her face, gently rousing her from her sleep. Just before she wakes, she does something he's never heard her do before. She moans his name. He does a quick double take, trying to convince himself he hasn't just heard what he knows he just heard. Then, "Mulder?"

He jumps and looks at her. "You're awake," he states nervously.

"Is something wrong?" Her voice is tired and innocent, showing no signs of sex dreams, but still he can't help but wonder. He wants to ask, but she probably would deny it anyway…not to mention how embarrassed she would be if she were to know he had heard his name escape her lips so passionately.

His voice returns just in time. "No. I just…I have…the clay is here." _Oh yeah. That was smooth._

"Okay. Just give me a sec to wash up," she requests, heading for his bathroom.

Without even thinking, he asks, "You wanna take a shower?" _Where the hell did that come from?_

Scully's eyebrows jump up to her hairline. "Shower, Mulder?" Then, she clears her throat loudly and insists, "No thanks. I'm fine. I'll just…uh…do it when I get home."

Still blushing, he replies with an awkward, "Okay," and the subject drops. _That was close…close to having her naked in my bathroom only a few feet away from me… Come on, Mulder. It's not like she's never showered here before, and what do you mean, "a few feet away?" What? Are you gonna stand by the door the whole time?_ Mulder rubs his hands down his face. "Man, I need help…desperately," he mumbles.

Scully returns to the room to see Mulder ripping open the clay's plastic wrapping with an old pair of rusty scissors. "So, have you done coiling before?"

He turns to look at her and then faces the coffee table again. "Not a lot, but the teacher passed out basic instructions before you came in today." He turns again, adding, "I guess I had left that part out, huh?"

"That's okay. I'll just make a copy of yours tomorrow at work. For now, we can share."

"Okay." He gets the packaging scrunched down around the sides of the block of clay and grabs a piece of wire with handles on either end. "I bought some accessories, too." She smiles, and he slices off a section for her and one for himself. "We can still use the coffee table, but let me find something to cover it with." He disappears into his bedroom for a minute and returns with a large plastic table cloth. "Don't ask."

"I wasn't going to," she grins, moving the things off the table for him. He covers the table and pulls out the set of instructions. "What do we do first?" Scully asks, trying to sit comfortably on the floor in her skirt. It doesn't appear that she is succeeding because the skirt is bunching up her legs as she resituates.

Mulder notices and offers, "Do you want to use a pair of my sweatpants? It'd be more comfortable." For a second, his eyes are glued to her skirt, and she looks down to see why. While she was trying to get comfortable, it had ridden almost completely up to her upper thighs. She hadn't even noticed.

"Oh," she startles, startling him as well, "yeah. Sure. Thanks." He gets up with his eyes still on her skirt even though she has fixed it and stumbles to his bedroom. "I was so late, I forgot to change into my jeans before class," she yells from where she is sitting. He brings her the sweatpants, and that's when she gets an idea. _So, let's see here, Mr. Mixed Signals…let's find out what your true feelings are._ She sets the pants on the couch as she stands and slowly unzips her skirt, glancing at his face afterwards.

Feeling like his mouth has gone dry, he asks, "Do you…I can…privacy? Want pri…privacy?"

"That's okay, Mulder. We're friends. Besides, you've seen me in a lot less than this before." Internally giving an evil grin, her external features stay true to her innocent, nonchalant act. She lets the skirt fall to the floor, revealing her very slim, tone, silky-white lower-body and a small pair of black, lace panties. The material seems to cover just enough and too much all at once, and Mulder politely (but quickly) excuses himself to the bathroom. As he rushes out of the room, a devilish smile curls at the corners of her mouth. _That's all I wanted to know_, she muses satisfactorily. He returns about five minutes later. Out of breath.

She wants to tease him and ask if he had fallen in but thinks better of it. If he is going to react this way to her, she does not want to discourage it in any way. In fact, maybe she's planning to do the opposite and _encourage_ it. Glancing up and down the Coiling Process, she sees what a perfect opportunity this is to do such encouragement. She has already prepared herself for some fun dialogue that will _hopefully _confirm her last prediction. "First roll the clay into a long hot dog shape," she reads, trying not to smile and give away her plan. Keeping a straight face is hard sometimes, even for her, but right now it's important. If she is going to do this right, there can be no tells. She has to look like she is _just doing some coiling_. It must be natural.

Mulder holds his clay in front of him and watches as she rolls hers between her hands and the tabletop. _Time to get really wrong here. Time to make him sweat_. "So, Mulder, how long is your coil?"

"HUH?" He looks down at the clay in his hands, barely touched. "Oh. Uh, I'm not done yet."

"Well, how _long_ do you _want _it to be?" she presses, in her best innocent voice.

Good…he has picked up on her little game…just as planned. With a smoldering leer, he says, "Very long." A chill runs up her spine…the good kind…and there is no stopping the flush in her cheeks.

"Well, that's good to know," she murmurs, adding, "I mean, a longer coil will make the whole pot look better." _And I happen to know you have a nice looking pot_.

"Is that what you look for in an artist? A big pot?"

"I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it helps. But, no. I look for many things in an artist."

He unconsciously begins to roll the clay in his hands as he asks, "Like what?"

"Well," she considers, leaning closer to his face, "like the way he handles the clay, his process…is he quick and careless, or does he take his time to create a better product? Is he a risk taker, or does he play it safe by always making the same things over and over again? In other words, how predictable is he?"

"You want an artist who is predictable or unpredictable?" he questions, his voice a little slurred, and he sets the clay down on the table. He leans even closer to her face and looks into her eyes.

"I want an artist who knows exactly what he wants and will stop at nothing until he gets it," she answers, feeling tingly with anticipation. For once, she cannot predict what he is going to do next. She thinks he's going to kiss her. At least she _hopes_ he is. Then again, the last time that happened, she ended up with pink paint all down the front of her. "Do you know what you want?" she questions, her voice soft and deep.

"I want a lot of things," he whispers. His chin drops, and his eyes are suddenly glossy…but only for a second. He faces the coil in front of him and stares at it, trying to remember what he was doing. To lighten the mood, he decides to pretend like nothing happened and continues his playful innuendos. "Is this long enough for your liking, Scully?" He dangles the coil in front of her, but she has to fight the ache in her heart so that she can smile.

"Yes, Mulder. That's…perfect."

Just then, his coil breaks at a weak point in the middle. He looks at it in dismay and mutters, "That wasn't supposed to happen."

She chuckles in response while he uses some slurry to put it back together. She finishes making her coil and asks what to do next. While his eyes are focused on the instructions, she takes a piece of paper from her bag next to her and glances at the last thing written on it. Too bad. She had predicted he would choose to be unpredictable. She puts it back when he turns to her.

"Now, you take this needle or nail thingy and skew the sides of the coil to create a Velcro texture where the two coils will come together." His voice cracks as he tries to say the last two words without letting his mind wander. _Playful innuendos aside, that's a little too strong_, he muses.

Scully doesn't think so, though. Surprised, and feeling almost dirty, that she had even picked up on it, she can't help but feel her spirits lift a bit. _Maybe there's still hope after all_. "What's the water for?"

"You put the water on the skewed part of the coils, and it acts as an adhesive. I guess it's like when it's hot out, and your sweaty skin sticks to leather car seats." He looks up at the leather couch cushion he is using as an armrest and smiles to himself. "Or…" _Should I? No. Well, why not? Okay fine._ "…like the way sweaty skin sticks to a leather couch. Very uncomfortable. That's why I much prefer…" _Okay, now that's too far_.

"What do you _much_ prefer, Mulder?" Scully asks, battling a smirk. _The bed, by any chance?_

"I, uh, I much prefer to sit in chairs when it's hot in here…I mean, hot outside…whatever."

"I know what you mean." _I know exactly what you mean._ "So, let's make us some pots."

They start to skew their coils and form nice-looking pots. Every now and then, one of them has to roll another coil, and the other one steals glances when it can safely go unnoticed. Mulder finishes first, but when he looks at the instructions, his face goes white. "What is it?" asks a concerned Scully as she finishes attaching her last coil.

"I don't think I'll put a handle on mine," he says with an uncharacteristically high pitched voice.

"Why not? What's wrong with making a handle?" He shows her the paper. "Oh," she blushes.

He begins to read the step out loud. "To make the handle for your pot, begin with a thick sausage-like piece of clay and a bucket of slip. Wet your hands, and ask a classmate to hold one end of the clay while you work on the other end. Pull and stretch the clay toward your body until it is the length and thickness you want. Then, bend the handle into an 'S' or a horseshoe shape, depending on your preference. Skew/attach."

Scully gives him a choppy giggle. "Gee, Mulder, you should be better at this than I."

"I know I should feel insulted by that, but I must admit I find it very comforting."

She laughs and says, "I'm glad…I guess."

Mulder puts his hand on her shoulder and uses her body to help himself stand, saying, "Still, I don't think I'll make one." He leers down at her and smiles. "But you should. I'll hold it, and you…" He stops short when he notices their position, and decides that it's probably not the best time to be making that joke. Not when he's on his feet, and she's on her knees in front of him. Just the thought makes his cheeks turn a shade of pink, and he quickly shakes his head in response, shooing the thought away entirely. It isn't working, and he realizes if he doesn't sit down, there will be no chance of hiding his arousal from her.

"I'll what?" she presses, biting her lip as he sits. Her eyes follow him down, but they are lingering a lot lower than his face. Just as he notices, she looks up stops biting her lip.

"You…make your handle." Making his voice low again, he says, "I'll just sit here."

She hands him the clay and wets her hands. "Ready?"

His lip quivers a bit before any sound will come out. Finally, "When you are," he answers. Instead of standing before him, she scoots over on her knees and sits back on her calves. "You aren't gonna stand?"

"Naw, I'm tired, and this is more comfortable." He looks like he doesn't know whether to be excited or miserable, and Scully decides that's exactly how she wants him. She parts his knees, startling him even more. "I can't reach the clay," she explains, taking hold of her end. Slip and dirty water drip down her arms to her short sleeves, and some drips from her knuckles onto the couch between his thighs. She tries to keep her straight face as she pulls the clay toward her chest, lengthening it more and more.

"Man, Scully," Mulder chokes, "you really do like them long." She laughs and takes the whole piece from his hands. "What? You're done already?"

"Yep. Thanks for helping me, by the way."

"It was my pleasure," he says coolly, but when she steals a quick glance at his crotch, she knows it sure was. He must have noticed it after she did because he crosses his legs, accidentally kicking the back of her head as he does so. "Oops! I'm so sorry," he laughs, stroking the spot he had kicked.

"It's okay," she laughs with him, forcing herself to not lean into his hand. She bends her handle, skews it, and attaches it with ease. When she is done, she teasingly asks, "Did you buy a kiln too?"

He squints thoughtfully, teasing as well. "I knew I forgot something!" Kilns are extremely expensive, and the electricity they use is expensive too. Mulder sets their art projects in the middle of the table so that he would remember to take them to the school when they go on Monday. Professor Glitter will be more than happy to fire them for her two most entertaining students.

After clean up, Scully goes into the kitchen to put the sponge away. Mulder drapes his body tiredly over the arm of the couch and notices her bag is open. He isn't one to go through someone's stuff, especially Scully's, but something catches his eye. He grabs the piece of paper that is lying on top, slightly wrinkled from being shoved into the bag. He sees it's her list of predictions, but there are only three. The first one is the one he saw in class. The second prediction is that he would invite her to hang out after class. _Hmmm. Maybe I am that predictable_, he ponders. When he sees the third one, he isn't sure what to think.

"What are you doing?" comes her voice, harsh and startled at the same time.

"I was just…"

"I said _I _would show those to _you_. You don't just take things out of my bag without…"

"Scully," he says getting up, "I'm sorry, but…what did you mean I'd be unpredictable? Did you mean that conversation we had earlier about the whole artist thing?"

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Ironically, I was able to predict your responses to mine so well that I knew it would lead where it did. But I thought you'd actually do it this time."

"Be unpredictable, you mean?" he confirms, more in the tone of a statement than a question.

She nods again. "Yeah. I thought you'd…do something unpredictable…something you wouldn't usually do. But I guess I was wrong."

He puts on a thoughtful expression. "Actually, you were right."

"What?"

"Well, you predicted I'd be unpredictable, and then I did something predictable instead, right? So, I did what you hadn't predicted. Therefore, I was unpredictable. See? You said I'd be unpredictable, and I was, so you were right." She gives him a tired smile and a _you - are - making - my - head - hurt_ look. "You don't seem happy that you were right."

"Well, I guess that's because it's not exactly the unpredictable thing I _wanted _to happen."

"What did you _want _to happen?"

"I wanted you to take a risk," she answers disappointedly. With that, she produces a humorless smile, grabs her bag, and heads for the door. "See you at work tomorrow, Mulder."

His voice matching her broken heart, he nods his head and says, "See ya tomorrow."


	6. Jim Hawes

**Special thanks to lil gillian and angryteabag for the art project ideas! (The body painting in this chapter is lil gillian's idea, but I'll see if I can use them all eventually…provided this story isn't boring the hell out of you guys yet.)**

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_"I want an artist who knows exactly what he wants and will stop at nothing until he gets it," she answers, feeling tingly with anticipation. An eager beating within her breast echoes loudly in her head. "Do you know what you want?" she questions, her voice soft and deep. He smiles, and she knows that this time it will end the way she has hoped._

_"I want you," he whispers, taking her chin in his hand and leaning in toward her lips._

_"Hmmm," she hums contentedly, tasting his lips, his mouth, his tongue. Oh, how she loves him. She wonders where the clay has gone, and then suddenly she wonders when they ended up in bed. He is still kissing her, and she can feel his skin touching hers…everywhere. "No," _she whines in her empty room

_"What is it? Isn't this everything you've ever wanted?"_

_She looks at his beautiful face and nods, _her consciousness already taking back control of her body_. "Yes," _she replies sadly. _"And that's how I know this isn't real…can't be real."_ She opens her eyes and finds she is alone. Her bed sheets are uncomfortably warm and damp from perspiration, so she kicks them off of her angrily. Now she is cold. _Why can't anything just be right for once?_ She gets up and walks to her couch. It still has the afghan on it. Curling up on the couch, she reflects on her dream. _What is wrong with me? I mean, really, Dana…have some self-control_, she chides herself. She looks at her phone, and it makes her remember the dream she had before this one. _What's the use? He's never going to make the first move_. And then, she gets another idea.

"Hello?" answers a tired female voice.

"Yes, this is Dana Scully, and I apologize for calling at this hour, but is Jim Hawes there?"

"One second please…may I ask who's calling?"

Scully chuckles to herself. _Give her a break. After all, it is 2:30 in the morning._ "Dana Scully," she repeats. The woman responds with an irritated grunt and hands the phone off to someone else.

"Dana? Is that really you after all these years?" asks the new voice.

"Jim," she murmurs with a sigh. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Ages. What can I do for you in the middle of the night? I should remind you I'm a married man now," he teases, answering Scully's unasked question about the woman who had answered the phone.

"You owe me a favor, Jim. I was hoping I could collect on it finally."

"Wow. After the first five years, I had assumed you forgot about that, but…I am still indebted to you…so, what is it that you need? Not a kidney, I hope. I only have two and you know how I always believe in keeping a spare around." She laughs. Even in the middle of the night he has his sense of humor.

"Well, I was hoping you could do for me what I did for you, Mr. 'Married Man,'" she grins.

"Who's the lucky, dumb-ass guy who doesn't know what he's missing yet?"

Again she laughs. "My partner. We are taking an art class together as kind of an extracurricular bonding experience, but I, uh…" She bites her lip. "I know he loves me, but I don't want to make the first move, and it's not really looking like he is going to either."

"Look, Dana, if you hadn't done it for me, Ellen might not have ever gone out with me. And she almost killed me when I told her you were never really interested in me…that it was just a trick. But I have a ring on my finger and three beautiful kids to prove it still worked. You know that I would do the same for you in a heartbeat."

"Thanks, Jim."

"So, what's the plan?"

"Well, I thought I'd leave it up to the master," she giggles.

"Uh-huh…trying to make up for not calling in four years, huh?"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she says. "Good-night."

"Night, Dana."

With that, she hangs up the phone. For the next minute, she paces the floor, trying to imagine how her plan would go. For Jim, it had gone well. They had been the best of friends in college, but never more than that. Jim was interested in their classmate, Ellen, and asked for some assistance in getting her to notice him. It had been clear that Ellen wanted to go out with him, too, but she tried to act like she wasn't and always figured Jim would be available. (He wasn't very popular with the girls, and so she figured there was no competition.) That was until this young, redheaded wonder started hanging dating him. Dana smirked inwardly at the memory of Ellen getting so jealous that she had stormed out of class. The next day, Jim had asked her to pick it up a notch, but Scully had known better. She decided to step back, and Ellen used the opportunity to ask Jim if he would like to join her for lunch. Ever since, they have been together.

Dana and Jim had remained friends and kept in contact even after the wedding, but four years ago things just got too busy. Too busy for old friends.

She glances at her bedroom and reenters it, taking in a thick breath of salty, moist air. She wraps the afghan around her shoulders and goes to open the window. _There. Much better._ She relaxes on the bed and thinks about Mulder. _This is going to be good._

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"Hey, Scully! Professor Glitter changed her mind about the coiling because there's a shortage of clay. So, guess what we're gonna get to do tomorrow," Mulder grins, guiding her into the office by the small of her back. She gives him a look that is less than enthusiastic. "Body painting."

"What the hell is body painting?"

He walks up very close to her, only a breath away, and answers, "Where you and a classmate paint each other." Scully's eyebrows shoot up, and a yelp is caught in her throat. "So, you wanna be my partner?"

"We are partners," she manages to say. "But if you mean for the project, then…maybe."

"Maybe? Who else would you do it with?" Scully touches her chin thoughtfully and looks above his head. "Nice try," he smiles. He walks past her to the door, when suddenly the phone rings. Scully makes herself look busy so that Mulder has to turn around and answer it. "Mulder…yes, actually. Here she is."

She pretends to not be expecting a call as she accepts the phone from his hand. "Yes?"

"Hey, Dana. It's Jim."

"Oh, hello, Jim." Mulder raises a brow at her, but she dismisses it. "You're in town? Really? Yeah, that'd be great."

"Are we still going with the art class idea?" he asks, chuckling to himself.

"Tomorrow is perfect. Oh, wait. I almost forgot. I have class…but you could probably join me…I mean _us_," she grimaces, looking at Mulder. He looks confused…almost hurt. "Dinner? Tonight? That'd be wonderful!" she shrieks, trying to sound girly. Noting her partner's reaction but not making the acknowledgement known to him, she adds an overly girly giggle. "Can't wait."

"Oh, man, Dana…that's just brutal," Jim laughs. "So, where are we having dinner?"

"Balthazar's sounds perfect."

"Damn, that's expensive," he whines, "…but it's fine. What time?"

"Six it is!" She sighs contentedly and puts the phone back into its cradle.

"Who was that?" inquires Mulder.

"Oh, that is Jim Hawes. We were _close _in college." Mulder combs his fingers through his hair. He looks like he wants to say something but tries to resist. "What is it? We didn't have any plans anyway."

"I don't mind you going to dinner with someone else," he scoffs. "But just out of curiosity…how _close_ were you two?" She smiles.

"Oh…y'know." She looks at her watch and shrugs. "Only nine hours to go."

The hours crawl by for Mulder but fly by for Scully. Soon it is time for her to leave. "You can go home too," she teases, grabbing her bag. "It's already five."

"Have a good night, Scully," he mopes, adding "not too good," when she's gone. He is alone for about a minute before he looks at his watch and thinks, _Hmmm…Balthazar's at six…I can make that._

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He pulls up to the restaurant and searches for a parking space. "Do you have a reservation, sir?" asks the host. Mulder tries to sneak a peek into the main room but doesn't see Scully or her date.

"Huh? Oh yes. That would be Mulder," he answers. "My date will be late."

The host nods and grabs a menu. "This way, sir." Mulder follows him into one of the back rooms and sees Scully and _Jim_ in at a table by the window. "Is this table sufficient for you, sir?"

The host points to a table in a corner of the room. A few tables behind Scully. _At least Jim won't recognized me_, he considers. "Yes. Thank you." He sits and accepts the menu. Huddling behind it, he begins his stakeout.

"Is that your partner?" Jim whispers to Scully.

She smiles and takes out her compact. Faking a few touch ups, she glances in the mirror at the Peeping Tom behind her. Then, she snaps the compact closed and mumbles, "Yep. That's him."

"Wow. You were right. How did you know he'd show up?"

She gives Jim a _duh_ glare, and all he can do is laugh. "I know him. I know him better than he knows I know him. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here." She takes his hand in hers and decides it's time to start the torture. "So, uh, what did you tell Ellen?"

"The truth. She thought it was hilarious, and she even said that maybe you two will be having a wedding also, as a result of this. She said if you do, then this friendship might be good luck."

"She said that? That's sweet. Sorry I haven't called you in so long."

"You know what, Dana? The phone works both ways. I'm just as much to blame as you."

"Thanks. So, what are you going to eat?"

"I think I'll have the duck." He takes another look at the prices and adds, "We're still going Dutch, right? I mean, I'm paying on my card, but you _are_ gonna pay me back?"

"Yes, Jim," she chuckles, letting her head drop to her chest.

"I'm only checking because, remember, I got three kids. Three kids equals no money."

"Yes, Jim."

"And no money equals no romantic dinners for my real girl," he teases.

"Yes, Jim." She looks up at him questioningly. "What's he doing now?"

Jim glances at Mulder, who is pointing at the menu and talking to the waiter. "He's either ordering or just now figuring out how pricey this place is."

Scully lets out a tremendous laugh and turns to glance at her partner. She turns back to Jim and says, "Let's take it up a notch."

"I don't know. When I told you that, you didn't listen, and things turned out better."

"Trust me," she says seductively. "Will Ellen care if it doesn't mean a thing?"

"Dana, I honestly can't say, but I'm sure it's for a good cause," he murmurs. He stands up by the table and pulls her up in front of him by her hand. Mulder watches in disbelief as Jim leans forward and captures Scully's lips with his. She hears a commotion behind her and has to fight not to laugh.

"What happened?" she asks when they break for air.

"Your partner over there just spilled his water."

"Hmmm. Sounds like this is working then. Maybe we should go early."

"No duck?"

"More money for dinner with your 'real girl,' right?" she grins.

"Sounds good to me," he says, matching her grin. "Let's go. Ellen said I could camp out at your place. I hope that's not a problem."

"Nope. Actually, that's great. Are you going to come to class tomorrow night then?"

Jim chews his lip thoughtfully. "Oh, yeah. That's right. What time again?"

"It's a six-thirty class. Other students bring in guests all the time. The professor doesn't care if we bring friends because she thinks of it as advertisement…in a sense."

"Yeah. I'll be there." They leave some money on the table and walk out of the restaurant with Fox Mulder a few yards behind them.

The car ride to Scully's apartment is spent catching up between the friends but agonizing for Mulder. _What the hell is going on here? Why did they leave the restaurant before they even got dinner?_ Mulder has a sick feeling in his stomach that he knows exactly why they left early and what they plan on doing. _But that doesn't make sense. This is not Scully. She wouldn't do this…would she? Who is this guy?_ He watches incredulously as Jim parks the car, kisses her on the front steps, and continues to lead her inside. _What is going on?_ Mulder parks and follows them inside, using his key to get into the building.

Meanwhile, Scully sits on her couch with Jim and hands him a beer. "I have some leftover Chinese food if you're hungry." Jim nods and makes himself at home by getting it. "I can't believe Meg is already eight. How could she be eight? Last time I saw her, she was just a baby!"

"I know. And Matthew and Jamie are almost three. You've never seen them." He reaches for his wallet and pulls out their pictures. Scully curls her legs under her and leans into the arm of the couch.

"They are so beautiful," she compliments in adoration. "Thank God they look like Ellen."

"Ha-ha," Jim scoffs, piling some chow mien into a bowl. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Uhm, I rented a couple of movies I thought you'd enjoy," she grins, holding up a couple of old 70s flicks. "What do you think?"

"Oh, Dana, just like old times, eh?" He plops on the couch next to her, and they put in the first movie. "Dana?" She looks at him questioningly. "Are you sure you want me here tonight? I mean, do you really want Mulder to think we are…doing _stuff_?"

"Oh, I'm going to tell him that we didn't. I'll tell him the truth about tonight…that we just talked and watched movies. But it wouldn't hurt to have the thought in his head."

"Hey, you know him better than I do. I was just making sure it wouldn't bite you in the ass."

"Watch the movie, Jim," she says, taking a sip of her beer. He chuckles and settles on the other side of the couch. "Thanks again."

"No problem."

Outside her door, Mulder paces the hallway. He can't hear what's going on inside, but in a sad way, he's almost happy about that. Finally, he knocks. The door opens to reveal a perfectly dressed Scully. "Hi."

"Mulder? What are you doing here?"

"I…I…I needed your help with something. I mean, I have a question about…work…school."

"You could have just called," she offers. "…but…come in. Come in." She steps aside to let him enter. When he walks in, he sees Jim on the couch. "Jim, this is Mulder. Mulder…Jim."

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Mulder, what is your question?"

Mulder racks his brain to come up with something adequate. "Can I get a ride to class tomorrow?"

"Is something wrong with your car?" Jim interjects, receiving _looks_ from both agents. "Sorry."

Clearing his throat, Mulder continues with, "Actually, my neighbor asked to borrow it, and I figured we will both be going to the same place…but if you prefer, I can just take a cab."

Scully smiles and shakes her head. "It's no trouble at all, Mulder. See you tomorrow."

"Oh…okay," he stutters. As he walks to the door, he says, "You two have anything special planned for tonight?" Instantly, he regrets asking such a thing, but Scully doesn't look too concerned.

"Only if hanging out and watching a couple movies is special," she answers.

Mulder nods. _It is to me since that is our special thing_, he ruminates. "Well, have fun." With that, he leaves. Scully looks at Jim and grins. This is going well.

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The next day, Mulder says very little to her. Work was very peaceful, and she can't remember the last time they had both finished all their paperwork early. The car ride to the Jr. College is a little more awkward. Finally, her sullen partner breaks the silence. "So, what did you do when the movies were over?"

Scully stifles a smile, and instead gives him glare. "Nothing."

"What time did he leave?"

"I don't know. Sometime after I left for work this morning." Getting exactly the reaction she has been preparing for, she adds, "He slept on the couch."

Mulder appears to be swallowing a lump of rage. "So, why now?"

"What?"

"You said you were…_close_…in college. So, why now? Why is he back? Why is he here?"

"Well, he said he missed me and wanted to catch up. As far as why now, he thinks he's ready to get out into the dating pool again. He's been divorced for a little over a year and figured D.C. wasn't a bad place to start." She can tell he wants to ask her more questions, but her partner is just beside himself. "What?"

"Are you…are you interested in him? I mean, are you two _dating_ again, or what?"

_Dating "again"?_ She stifles another smile. _I never actually said we had dated. I only said we were "close," _she muses. "I don't know. To be honest, Mulder, what would be so bad about that? Do I not deserve to finally have a personal life? A life away from work? Women my age are out there in the world with normal jobs and families, and here I am with…"

"…Me," he finishes sadly. She slows to a stop for a red light and leans her head on the headrest. "I'm sorry if I'm holding you back."

"You aren't holding me back, Mulder. I'm just…" The light turns green, and she eases her foot down on the accelerator. "I feel that I am just as entitled to a love life as anyone." She knew before she said it that her choice of words would have an effect on him, but she was going for the kill.

They pull into the parking lot and get out of the car. As they walk to the classroom, Jim meets them at the door. "Hey, Dana. Thanks again for inviting me." He gives her a light kiss on the hand, and Mulder has to restrain himself. That is one of his spots…not this _Jim_ guy's. Jim smiles kindly at Mulder before guiding Dana inside by the small of her back. She can almost feel her partner's furious aura behind her.

"Hey, Scully," he tries, "are we still going to do this project together? I mean, Jim's just here to watch, right?" She gives him a sorrowful look. "You know what, don't worry about it. I'll find someone."

When he walks away, Jim shakes his head. "I actually feel sorry for the guy. At first I thought he was a jerk for not just coming to his senses, but, Dana, he's miserable. Maybe it's time for me to back off."

She nods in agreement, never taking her eyes off of Mulder. "I think you're right, Jim. But there's just one more thing I have in mind first."

"Anything."

"Play along."


	7. Body Painting and So Much More

**Okay, this chapter may or may not have a confusing part (or parts…plural) but I feel pretty confident that it will make sense in the end. I'm still really busy and not really supposed to be working on fanfic right now b/c I have 3 different projects I'm working on (History, English, and Communication Studies), but here is chapter 7 despite it all! (Another special thank you to all of you who have been reviewing this story. I greatly appreciate it, and I can only hope that the events I want to include do the story justice in your eyes.)**

**To lil gillian, I'm sure you could have done the body painting idea better than I because I'm not very familiar with that particular type of art. So, to remedy that, I decided to focus more on the MSR genre in this chapter than the comedy. For those of you only here for the comedy, I apologize.**

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"Will you be my partner?" Mulder asks one of the girls in the class. Just about everyone else seems to be taken.

"Oh, sorry. I'm already with Vince," she answers apologetically.

"That's okay," he mopes.

Just then, Professor Glitter approaches him. "You can be my partner today, Fox," she offers. He tries to keep from cringing as he looks the woman up and down. _She is sure no Scully_.

"Okay," he gulps. "Thanks."

He watches Scully as she smears paint all over Jim. _Oh, man, I would give anything for those hands to be all over me,_ he muses. Then, Jim begins to smear the paint on her, and Mulder just about lunges at him. _Get your hands off of her,_ his internal voice threatens. _I should be the one touching her…rubbing paint over her…feeling her every curve. She's mine, damn it._ He is so lost in thought that he practically jumps out of his skin when he feels two cold, wet hands on his shoulders. "Sorry, you…startled me," he gasps.

Professor Glitter chuckles to herself as she continues. "That's okay, Fox. If you don't mind me asking, why aren't you and Dana partners? You guys do all the projects together…even the individual ones."

"She, uh, brought a friend and we decided it would be rude to make him partner up with someone he doesn't know." Mulder figures that's the best answer to give if he wants to keep from getting too far into it.

"Well, that is very gentleman-like of you." She lets the subject drop as though it is nothing important. While that is what Mulder wants, he can't help but feel insulted that she is so quick to dismiss it. "Sorry, we didn't get to do the coiling project, Fox, but at least you and Dana already tried it. Oh, that reminds me…you can take home your pieces at the end of next class."

"Thank you, professor."

"No problem. Actually, it's quite refreshing to have students who are into art so much that you try new things on your own time. A lot of students think this class is an easy A and take it merely for the units rather than for the purpose of doing and learning about art."

Mulder smiles. "I can understand how units would be important for some students, but Sc Dana and I surely don't need units. We took this class to be able to relax and hang out outside of work."

Professor Glitter nods calmly, and they both fall into a pool of silence. As they persist to paint each other, Mulder's mind begins to drift back to his partner and her new bo.

_What is wrong with me? She really does deserve to have someone. I just wish it could be me instead of…not me. This is what I get for waiting so long, isn't it? It's not like she hasn't given me enough opportunities to tell her how I feel. She has even given me chances to kiss her again. But what if I screw everything up? I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I hurt her or break her heart. If we try to have a sexual relationship and it doesn't work out, we could lose our friendship. I don't think I could survive without our friendship. I don't just mean that I would be sad, but I seriously might get myself killed if she isn't there to kick some sense into me._

_Look at him. Look at the way he is enjoying this! Hell, can I really blame him? I'd kill to be in his shoes. She is so beautiful. God, she's so beautiful. I'd kill to be any man she loves. _He closes his eyes and furrows his brow. _I am a man she loves. I just have to figure out how to go about this. I can't just let that Jim guy steal her away. I want to be the one with my hands on her body._

"Uh, Fox?" He opens his eyes to meet a somewhat embarrassed Professor Glitter's eyes.

"What?"

She bites her lip…probably to keep from laughing. "I don't want to embarrass you, but were you thinking about something…or someone…else just now?" He cringes as he looks at his paint trail.

Sure enough, it shows that his hands had gotten more than a little comfortable with her. "I am so…" He looks as though he is on the verge of fainting in humiliation. "…sorry."

She laughs and assures him, "It's okay, Fox. Between you and me…never mind." She flushes slightly and then steps back. "Class is almost over, and it's about time we get cleaned up anyway."

Mulder rubs the backs of his colorful hands down his face and chides himself as he walks toward the sink. While his hands are covering his eyes, he bumps into someone. "Sorry," he blurts, throwing his hands in front of him.

"It's fine," answers Scully as she stands back to examine him. "Wow. You look good."

He gives her a weak smile. "So do you." He follows the smears of paint all over her body with sad eyes. "You look like the two of you had a lot of fun," he observes, glancing at Jim's similar appearance.

"Yeah. It was okay." She takes him by the hand and pulls him close. "I think you and I would have had more fun, though." This makes his ears perk.

"Really? How's that?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replies complacently. "Can you keep a secret for me?"

"Anything. What?"

"I'm starting to remember why I broke up with him in the first place." Scully and Jim had been discussing this part of the plan while they were painting each other, and Jim is waiting for his cue.

"So, you guys _did_ go out?"

Jim walks up to greet Mulder with a "Yep. We were what you might call 'college sweethearts' until Dana decided her life was headed in a different direction than mine. Those were the days, though, weren't they?" He tosses his arm around her shoulder, and she makes sure to make an uncomfortable face.

Mulder notices and says, "Scully, do you want to go cleaned up a bit before we go?"

She nods, but Jim interrupts, "Oh, I'll take her home. You can use her car to get to your place."

Gaining height by standing up straighter, Mulder deepens his voice and says, "That's ridiculous. I'm going to wash my hands, and then Scully and _I_ will be going. She is my ride."

"I just said you can use her car to get home, and she can get it back from you later. Now, you _could_ make her drive you, but it would just be a waste of her time because Dana and I have plans tonight."

"Excuse me, _Jim_, but I'm sure driving me anywhere is _not_ a waste of Scully's time, just as it wouldn't be for me to drive her. I'll get her home just fine."

Jim laughs. "What's up with you always calling her 'Scully' anyway? You do realize she has a first name, don't you?" he mocks. Looking at Scully seductively, he considers, "Or maybe she only likes to be called 'Dana' by her _real_ friends."

Scully's eyes go wide, and she shoots Jim a look that says, _That wasn't part of the plan!_

Simultaneously, Mulder's chin drops, and his eyes say, _That's it!_

Jim looks from Dana to Mulder calmly. (But on the inside, he doesn't feel anywhere as calm as he looks. He knows he had crossed the line, and he is actually a little scared now.) _Back to the plan_.

"I apologize, Agent Mulder. I guess I just have a tendency to get a little possessive. After all, Dana and I were very close at one time."

Mulder tries to swallow his fury as he wonders again, "How close?"

Jim glances at Scully, who has a grim look on her face. "Well, I'd say as close as Marilyn Monroe and JFK except without the fame and Jackie," he answers.

_Pampas bastard,_ Mulder mentally shouts, his fury rising again.

"That's not true," Scully interjects, more to Jim than Mulder…but for Mulder's benefit. Then, she turns to Mulder and says, "That's what I was trying to tell you."

Mulder looks more confused than she has ever seen him. "Wh…wh…what?"

Turning back to Jim, she says, "Jim, I told you in college that you can't just say things like that. We might have been able to have something then, if it hadn't been for that mouth of yours. But even if you had changed, I don't think we would be able to have something now. I don't love you. I love someone else."

Jim makes himself look sad as he nods and turns away. "I'm sorry, Dana. I guess I just always say things I wish could be true." He walks a few paces to grab a towel off the table and wipes his hands. Then, just before he leaves, he says, "You deserve someone who will treat you right…the way you ought to be."

"What just happened here?" Mulder asks when Jim has gone.

_I just pulled the biggest prank on you ever, but I can't tell you that. Not yet, anyway._ "Let's talk."

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After cleaning up, Mulder walks Scully to her car. "Jim is one weird guy, don't you think?"

"I am so sorry about him, Mulder. He's great when it's just me and him, but he doesn't do well when other men are involved. He wasn't kidding when he says he gets possessive over me." Mulder shrugs his shoulders as he opens the passenger door for her. "That's right, Agent Mulder," she teases, "you aren't the only man to get territorial."

Taking his seat behind the wheel, he weakly admits, "I guess I do get a little like that with you, don't I?" He reclines the seat just slightly and sighs. When he looks at her face, her eyes sarcastically ask, _a little?_ "It's just that…he isn't right for you. You deserve someone who…"

"Who what?"

"…loves you…more than life itself." It isn't until they are pulling into the parking lot of Mulder's apartment building that he asks, "What did you see in him, anyway?"

Scully smiles internally, happy with the way her plan has worked out. Cruel, yes…but sometimes cruel is necessary. _It's not like he's never been cruel to me before_. The car idles to a halt in a carefully outlined parking space, and they open the doors to get out.

"Jim is intense," she finally answers. "When he wants something, he doesn't wait around to get it. He may be weird to you, but to me, he was…I don't know. I really missed him, y'know? I missed feeling like a girlfriend." She lowers her gaze to the floor as they get in the elevator. "I miss a lot of things that come with a relationship. The closeness, having someone to spend all day with…and all night." Then, she returns her gaze to Mulder. "Jim and I never slept together. Even in college."

He is very relieved, but can't help wondering, "Why?"

"I guess it was because of his tendency to lie about some things and exaggerate others." The elevator doors open to reveal the fourth floor in front of them. Scully decides to wait until they are in the privacy of his apartment before she continues. "I'm hesitant to say this, but I wasn't one to save myself for anyone in particular. Certainly not for marriage. But the men I have been with in my life, at least I don't regret it. Every choice I've made is responsible for who I am now, and I owe my current situation and relationships to those same choices. Good or bad."

"You really feel that way?" He goes to grab a couple beers from the frig.

Scully considers it further and then answers with a subtle nod. "They've all led me to you."

A blush sweeps across his face as he sips from the brown, glass bottle and hands her the other. "I wish I could say the same," he whispers. "I can think of plenty of things I wish I didn't do."

"Name two." She opens the beer and allows the cool, carbonated liquid to glide down her throat.

"I can name three," he smiles. "Two would be too easy."

"Okay then, name the one thing that doesn't have anything to do with old flames."

"I regret not doing _this _a long time ago." With that, he takes her beer and sets both bottles on his coffee table. He then reaches for her face and cups her cheeks in his hands. "I was afraid that a relationship would harm our friendship, but it is clear to me now that _not_ admitting to how I feel about you is damaging it even more. I want so badly for you to be happy. You deserve so much better than me, but there is no one in this universe who could ever love you more." He uses his thumbs to wipe away a few tears that have escaped her eyes. "Before I tell you what I want, please tell me what you want."

"What do you mean?" she whispers.

"What things do you want more than anything in the world."

"I want to be adored. With you, I have always been respected, but there have been so many times that I wanted to be wanted…needed…worshiped in ways that 'respect' doesn't begin to comprise."

Mulder closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers. Using more air than actual voice, he whispers, "You always have been."

She can feel his breath on her lips and wonders if she is dreaming again. _Can this be real this time? Is my mind just fooling me again?_ "Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this really happening?" He opens his eyes to look at her and notices more tears are streaming down her face. Nodding, he reassures her every concern and begins to gaze at her lips.

"Yes, it is." He starts to lean in for the kiss when she pulls back. "What?" he asks nervously.

"What do _you_ want more than anything in the world?" she smiles.

Remembering the answer she wanted, he says, "I want to do something unpredictable." She laughs, but then he realizes that a simple kiss would be _pre_dictable. So, instead, he grabs her waist and lifts her off the ground…only to re-gravitate her onto his bed a few seconds later.

"You're succeeding," she gasps as he joins her there. Both their heads are spinning, and Mulder can't help but wonder if he is making a mistake. It's not that he doesn't want this, but it feels so fast. They have barely just admitted their feelings for each other, and he is already straddling her on the bed.

"I thought I lost my chance to do this," he muses aloud, lowering his face to hers.

"Is that the only reason you are lying on top of me right now?" she asks jokingly.

"I love you. I love you so much, and I've been wanting to do this for a very long time."

"But is Jim the only reason you are doing it now?" Dana inquires again.

He slides to the side so that half of his body is still on her while the other half is on the bed. "Maybe," he admits, nuzzling into her neck. "But that doesn't change the way I feel about you."

She grins contentedly. "I know. I was just wondering if…"

He starts to plant little open-mouthed kisses on her neck. "If what?"

"…if that's what it would take," she finishes, her words starting to slur with arousal. At first she is worried about insulting him, but his increasing intensity proves he is far from being insulted. His mouth inches closer and closer to hers with every kiss, until finally, _Oh, Jesus_, she quivers. This kiss is better than the ones in her dreams and far better than the one they had shared on New Year's. His lips and tongue are gentle at first, but then become harsh and forceful, pleading for entrance…and then some.

"Dana?" he gasps out of breath.

"What?" Her breathing isn't all that different than his.

"Tomorrow I'm calling in sick. What's your excuse?"

She smiles at the thought of waking up to him. "Well, we could both be sick from food poisoning. And that will give us a couple extra days, too."

"I like the way you think, Agent Scully," he grins, giving her a wink. Then, just as quickly, his smile his gone. He is completely serious again and eyeing her like he would a million dollars. Only, in his opinion, she is a lot more valuable and precious. "Dana?" he whispers even more quietly than before.

"What?"

"Is this too fast?"

She gives him a faint smile and says, "We've waited seven years for this. No. I don't think it's too fast at all." Mulder leans down to kiss her again, and before she knows it, her dream is coming true.

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**Did I do okay on this one? Sorry it wasn't as funny, but tell me if it was okay anyway. All feedback is welcome, encouraged, and appreciated.**


	8. The Cat is Out of the Bag

**No actual art class in this chapter, but I felt there was some business to take care of before I moved onto another class project. Tell me what you think.**

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_Warm. Warm and secure. This is nice. I could get used to this._ Dana smiles in her sleep, relishing the feeling of being in a man's arms. Not just any man. Mulder's. Her thoughts are wild with passionate memories of the night before…and again early this morning. _Kiss. Thrust. Pain. Pleasure. Deeper. Deeper. Harder. Gasp. Stars. Oh, Mulder._ The sun has risen, but she isn't ready to get up. _Not yet. Just another hour_, she mentally whines as two strong hands grip her shoulders. "What?"

No answer. He gently squeezes her shoulders again, and she can now feel his body constricting around hers.

"Oh," she whispers. _He's not ready to get up either._ She turns to face him, and his possessive hold on her tightens even more…_if possible_. "Hey," she whispers again, nudging him lightly, "I can't move."

His eyes open, and he threatens to squeeze harder. "Fine," he says in defeat, releasing her completely. Her body shivers in response to the sudden lack of contact as he rolls onto his back.

Dana settles against him and wraps herself around his body in return. "What time is it?" she asks.

He laughs, "Almost noon. Can you believe it? The last time I've slept in _this_ late was…"

"A week ago, actually," she interrupts dryly.

"Oh, yeah. Well, it surely wasn't because I was having sex all night."

"Well, _that's_ a relief." His face blushes slightly, and she tiredly strokes his cheeks as if to rub the redness away. "Thank God it's… Wait a second!"

"What?"

"It's not even the weekend! It's…it's only Thursday! We're late for work!"

"But we're not going to work today, remember?"

"Right," Scully sighs, her shoulders relaxing in relief. But then they stiffen again. "I didn't call in. Did you?"

"Crap. No I didn't, and I bet Skinner is furious."

"We better go." In a panicked rush, the two agents jump out of bed and into their clothes. "Oh, _this_ won't do," Mulder hears his partner mutter.

"What?" He follows her annoyed expression down to her outfit. "Oh."

"I guess we'll just have to be _really_ late, then, if I have to go home to change into a fresh set of clothes anyway," she shrugs. "Might as well shower."

"Good thing," Mulder winces, holding his arm up to his nose. "I can smell you all over me. I guess that would let the cat outta the bag, huh?" Scully crinkles her nose and sniffs the air around her. "Yes, my dear Agent Scully, that would be the smell of sweat and sex," he teases in a fake, indistinguishable accent.

She gives him a raised eyebrow and hurls back, "Like you're any more familiar with it than I am." He opens his mouth to continue the playful banter, but is cut off when the phone rings. "Skinner," Scully whispers. Wiping a grimace off of his face, Mulder picks up the receiver and invites the A.D. to speak.

"Yes, sir. I know, sir; I can explain. Oh…she is? I think it was food… No, sir. I'm not feeling well. I think it was… What would make you say that? Sir? Sir? No she isn't. Okay. Yes, sir, I'll try." He hangs up the phone and stares at it. "So much for food poisoning," he mumbles.

"Well, I heard your end," Scully says grimly. "What'd _he_ say?"

"He informed me that I am late, and that you are too. He was wondering if I know where you are or why you're not answering your calls, and…that's about it."

"Ah ah ah," she scolds, holding up an index finger at him. "What else did he say?"

"Oh, you mean about the 'What would make you say that?' part?" She nods. "Apparently someone or something gave him the idea that…" _Here we go._ "…you'd be here."

"What? Well, did he say who or what?"

He shakes his head. "No. He only reminded me that if anything _were_ to happen between us, it would cause a whole lot of hell at the FBI and be a cause for reassignment." Mulder's head drops sadly.

"And by 'us,' he means you and him, right?"

"Dana…"

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that…" She lies back down on the bed and curls around the pillow. "I just don't want this to end. I've waited too long and gone to too much trouble for this for this to end now." Mulder sits next to her and combs his fingers through her hair reflexively.

"Why do I always seem to have to pick between you and the FBI?" He looks down at her and sees her looking up at him. Without another thought, he whispers, "I'll choose you if I have to pick one."

Butterflies tickle her stomach, and a happy grin parts her lips. "Thank you." Then the grin disappears. "If they reassign us, though, you know I'm quitting." His eyebrows scrunch together forlornly. "Don't think I won't. I'll get a job at Quantico if I can, but I won't be an FBI agent if you aren't my partner."

"Well, let's hope no one finds out." After a few seconds, Mulder asks, "What did you mean when you said you've gone to too much trouble for this…for…what we have?"

"What?" Scully blurts, caught off guard by the question.

"Earlier…when you said…"

"Oh, that," she interrupts. "Nothing. Never mind." She gives a forced smile and tugs on his collar, pulling him closer and closer to her face. "So are we going to be really late or have food poisoning?"

"I have a feeling that my answer will determine whether or not we…" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Late or food poisoning?" she repeats. As if to answer her question, he steadies his weight evenly on his knees, one on either side of her. "Food poisoning it is," she giggles and pulls him down for a kiss.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_ "Damn it," Mulder whines into her neck.

"Were you expecting someone?" she inquires.

"No. I guess I should make myself look sick, then, huh?" He climbs off the bed and wraps himself in a blanket. Securing her in his room by closing the door, he shuffles over to the outside door and opens it.

"You look like hell," greets Frohike…Byers and Langly standing behind him.

_Crap._ "Food poisoning. What are you guys doing here?"

"Food poisoning, huh? What from?" asks Langly.

"Scully and I ate sushi last night. Why are you here?"

"Scully's sick too?" questions Frohike with a scheme building in his head.

"Are you deaf? What are…"

Finally, Byers offers an answer. "We looked into that Jim Hawes' personal files like you asked us to, but you know how we feel about phones." Mulder's eyes widen. "Is this a bad time?"

"You asked them to do a background check on Jim?" comes a very irritated, and perhaps nervous, voice from behind.

Mulder cringes and turns to face her. "You couldn't get mad at me later?" he asks, slapping a hand to his forehead. The Gunmen stare at the agents in confusion and disbelief as they argue.

"Uh, guys?" Langly attempts to interrupt. "Guys?" When they finally respond, he nods to Scully and says, "Why is she here? I thought you said…" He is cut off by a gasp from his right. The look on Frohike's face makes Byers elbow him, and he closes his mouth at once. "Sorry, Mulder. It's none of our business." They start to leave, and Mulder rolls his eyes and invites them into the apartment.

Once inside, he shuts the door and sticks a threatening index finger in their faces. "Not a word!"

"Who would we tell?" Byers asks Mulder's finger.

"Fine. Well, now that you know," he begins looking to Scully, "I guess there no reason to deny it."

"So, the two of you…you two…are…together?" Frohike stutters, still in mourning.

"As of last night," Scully replies with a slight blush. She notices his disappointment and walks up to him. "Hey," she whispers, "if things don't work out, you're next on my list." He gives her a weak smile.

She looks back at Mulder, who is smiling too. "Don't get your hopes up too high, though," Mulder chuckles, hoping a joke would distract her from his snooping.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Why'd you have them do a background check on Jim?" He tenses and she can see his eyebrow twitching. "That name really irritates you, doesn't it?" she teases.

"I don't like that guy, and if he ever tries to contact you again, I want to know his intentions." He watches her roll her eyes at him and turns to the Gunmen for confirmation. "What'd you find?"

Langly looks at Scully. "Are you sure you want to be here for this?"

"There's nothing you could possibly say about him that would surprise me," she answers with a shrug. _Nothing that will surprise me, but I'm sure there's plenty there that will surprise Mulder._ Byers opens his mouth to speak, but Scully cuts him off. "Wait a sec, guys." Facing her partner, she says, "Can I talk to you about something first?"

Mulder gestures Byers to continue.

"_Mulder!_"

"Scully, please. I want to hear this."

"But…"

"Byers, what did you find?"

Unsure whether or not to speak, Byers waits for Scully's approval before he begins. She gives half a nod, her face displaying pure resentment. _Maybe Frohike will be getting his chance after all._ "Well, Mulder, Jim Hawes lives in Rhode Island, currently, with his wife and three kids."

Sure enough, Mulder looks shocked. He puts up a hand, telling Byers to discontinue and faces Scully. Noting her lack of surprise, he says, "You already knew that, didn't you?" more in the tone of a statement. She nods, expressionlessly. "Why didn't you tell me?" This seems to get a spark out of her.

"What? Why didn't I _tell_ you? What the hell do you think I was trying to say just now?"

"You lied to me!" he accuses, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

"I wanted to tell you, but…" She trails off until her words are mere breaths of air.

"But what?"

The Gunmen scramble to the door. "We should go," Langly murmurs. Frohike looks back at the agents and bites his lip. "Come on, Frohike." Then they leave.

"But what?" Mulder repeats.

"But I was afraid you'd get mad."

"You were afraid I'd get _mad?_ Mad that he's married? Mad that you almost had an affair with him or did?" She glares at him with tears in here eyes. "I mean, for all I know you could have lied about not sleeping with him too! Is that it? Is that why you thought I'd get mad?"

"No," she whispers.

"What then? What could I possibly be mad at?" he shouts sarcastically. She grabs a box of Kleenex and throws it at his face, which he blocks with an arm, and runs to his room. "What are you doing?" he asks, following her in there. She doesn't answer. She just puts her things together and heads for the door. "No," he growls, standing in her way. "Not until we talk about this."

"Talk about what? You won't even _let_ me talk!"

"Well, here's your chance," he says, getting in her face.

"You're an ass." She pushes by him and walks to the door of the apartment. Turning back, she says, "I never slept with him, and yes, I lied to you. But it was only to get you to make a move. That's it. But thanks for jumping to conclusions. It's nice to know that you think I'd do such a thing." With that, she storms out, leaving Mulder alone in his living room.

_Ring!_ "Mulder. Yes, sir, I know I'm very late, but that's what I was trying to tell you. No, sir. I know. But I have food… No, sir. Can I finish explaining?" At that moment, it dawns on him. _This is what I was doing to Scully_, he shrugs, relating himself to Skinner.

Meanwhile, Skinner tries to get Mulder's attention. "Agent Mulder!" the phone yells.

"Sorry, sir. I was just trying to tell you that Agent Scully and I got food poisoning yesterday when we had sushi for dinner. Yes, that's what I was trying to say earlier. It's okay." He sets the phone back into its cradle when he hears his boss hang up on the other line. _If Skinner can apologize, so can I._

He picks up the phone again and dials Scully's cell. "I'm not talking to you," she answers.

"Only because I wasn't letting you talk. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me to not let you explain." There is silence coming from her end, and Mulder wonders what she's thinking. "Are you going to say anything." Suddenly, there's another knock at his door. "Scully, I'm sorry. Please just say something."

"Answer the door, dumbass," she answers dryly. He does and just about smothers her to death in his fierce embrace. "Yeah, yeah, yeah… Listen, I'm sorry I lied to you, but if you really meant what you said about letting me explain, please believe me when I say I would never lie to you to hurt you. I would never want to put you in danger or hurt you. I just wanted to encourage you…remind you that I couldn't wait around for you forever. Jim really was a friend of mine in college, and we had remained close even after…until about four years ago when our lives just got too busy. I'm sorry for whatever pain I put you through, but I'm not sorry I did it." She tenderly takes the phone from his hand and rests it back in its spot. "I love you, and I was afraid we'd never get to… I was afraid you'd never get the nerves to tell me how you feel."

"I wanted to," he whispers, "but I was scared, too. Not scared that you wouldn't have returned the feeling…I knew you would…but scared it would ruin our friendship."

"I know. You told me already. Besides, this is my confession. Not yours."

"I don't care whose confession it is. I'm still sorry for how I treated you." He takes her face in his hands and caresses his thumbs across her cheeks. "I know why you did it, and if I had just listened to you in the first place, I'd have understood then too." He makes a face that is twisted between embarrassment and anger. "And about what I said…about the affair thing…I was just lashing out, and I shouldn't have said that."

"You don't have to explain…"

"Yes. I do. I had no right to make an accusation like that. Especially to you. The truth is, I know you wouldn't do that. You aren't that type of person. Even when you were, I guess, _pretending_ to go out with him, I was more concerned that he would try to sleep with you. Not the other way around. I owe you more than the trust I displayed, but I want you to know that despite what I said out of pain, I don't really feel that way."

"Thank you, Mulder. You don't know what that means to me." He leans in to rest his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. "You want to know something else?" she grins.

"What?"

"This is how Jim went out with his wife." Mulder gives her a funny look, curious and suspicious. "Yep. He had asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend, or at least interested in him, to make her jealous. That's Ellen. His wife." Mulder laughs and shakes his head. "He owed me one."

"You are amazing, you know that? You never cease to surprise me."

"That's right," she teases. "I'm unpredictable." He rolls his eyes and grabs his coat.

"We're off the hook for work today. I talk to Skinner, and he fell for our food poisoning story."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. So, let's go get something to eat. I'm starving."

"Okay." They get in her car, Mulder behind the wheel. "What do you feel like having?"

"I don't know," he murmurs. "I'm kinda in the mood for sushi."

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**Don't know when I'll have chapter 9 up. Still got to figure out what project I want to have them do next and then WRITE it! lol That takes time, and I'm limited on the time I have to reserve for ff writing. Anyway, tell me what you think about this chapter.**


	9. Back into the Groove of Things

**Thanks again to all of you who have been reviewing this fanfic, and special thanks to angryteabag for this art project idea. (And to jilly jilly, I liked your idea too, but this is to be my final chapter, mostly because I'm a little burned out on writing for now…but not reading, so feel free to make that idea a ff of your own, and I'll be sure to check it out if you do.) Please let me know how you feel about it, and thank you again for being such loyal readers.**

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**CHAPTER 9 **…**_"Back into the Groove of Things"_**

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"Do you know what we are doing today?" Scully asks, hopping into the car after work. Mulder slides into the driver's seat and stares out the windshield at the parking garage wall. "Mulder?"

"Sorry," he blurts, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

"It's fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I was just thinking about Skinner."

"Skinner? Mulder, is there something you would like to tell me?" she grins.

He looks at her and chuckles uneasily. Then, he sarcastically responds, "Yeah, Scully. I'm dumping you for him." She gives him a smirk, and he continues, "Actually, I just got a weird vibe from him during our meeting today. You didn't notice anything?"

"Like what?"

"Well, I don't know. He just kept looking at me while you were giving our report. It was like he knows about us." Scully rolls her eyes. "I'm not just being paranoid, Scully." She raises an eyebrow. "Okay, fine. Maybe I am. But that doesn't make it any less _possible_."

"What are you saying, Mulder? You want to call it quits for a while?"

"Hell _no_!" he jumps. "But maybe we should start being a little more cautious."

"How so? We already drive separately to work everyday except the days we have class, on which days one of us is sure to get here by cab, and we are completely plutonic in the office. Especially in Skinner's presence, of all people. What more can we do?"

"It's the way we look at each other," he mumbles, realizing it as he says it. "I can't help myself. Every time I look at you now, I see…"

"Me naked?" she teases. When his face doesn't change, she thinks she guessed right. "Seriously? Well, what about me? That's not what I…" Pause…. _Hmmm._

"Ah-ha! See, you do it, too!" he grins. A silence falls between them while he pulls out of the garage and onto the main street. "Obviously, it's more than that. I love you, and that's what he's seeing in my eyes. Not that I never think of you naked," he leers, "but I am infatuated with you. Skinner would have to be blind to not notice." Mulder's shoulders shrug as he slows the car to a halt for a red light. "Hey, what do you say we skip class tonight?" He wags his eyebrows more than suggestively and rubs the backs of his fingertips up her thigh. As if aroused simply by the thought, her eyes lull closed and her head presses against the headrest.

"Green light," she murmurs when she opens her eyes again. He looks forward and steps on the gas, still rubbing her leg. Dana rests her hand on his, holding it in place. "I would love to, but I think that we should probably focus on getting back into the groove of things. Not to mention it's the last class, and these will be our final projects. Now, for the second time, do you know what we are doing today?"

"I think she said something about making statues or sculptures our of different stuff. I don't know."

"That sounds…fun…kinda," she grimaces.

"Not as fun as…"

"Mulder!"

"Well, it doesn't."

They pull into the campus parking lot and walk into the art room. "Hello, class," greets the professor. "Today I brought some different materials for your final projects. The idea is to make anything you want, using as many of these materials as you can. Most of my students take the abstract route, but if you prefer to make something specific, that's fine too. It's completely up to you."

"Are there any limitations on how explicit a piece can be, Professor?" Mulder asks, eyeing his partner suspiciously.

"No, Fox, that is the beauty of art; you are free to pursue the depths of your imagination." Her answer seems to delight him, and Scully gives him another raised eyebrow. He only winks at her in response. "Now, you have the entire class period to complete your projects. If you choose to pick them up next week, I will be extending my office hours, as I have already explained in the syllabus. Other than that, your grades will be posted online, and have a safe break. It was a pleasure having you all in my class." She nods her head toward the general vicinity of her students and smiles. "Please begin." The teacher takes her seat, and Mulder rushes to the pile.

"Afraid there will be nothing good left?" Scully asks, joining him at his side within the horde.

"Of course. Besides, I already know what I want."

"Oh? What are you going to make?"

"It's a surprise," he grins. She rolls her eyes and starts grabbing random materials.

When she gets back to their table, she examines her partner's goodies. Mulder glances up at her and gestures toward her own. "Whatcha got there?" he asks.

"Oh, some pieces of wood, Styrofoam cups, nails, wire, cardboard…you?"

"Same and more," he answers proudly. Then, pointing to each additional item, he lists, "Pencils, some pieces of cloth, some newspaper, magazine clippings, and these." He holds up a foot of PVC pipe and an empty water bottle. "You think I should do an abstract?"

"I don't know, Mulder," Scully grins. "By the looks of the materials you gathered, you seem to have something quite specific on your mind."

"What makes you say that?"

"Hey, if you want to play Mr. Innocent, that's just fine. But all I have to say is…"

"What?" he presses, intrigued by her abrupt silence. "All you have to say is…" She blushes and shakes her head. "What? Are you afraid you will lower your mind into a gutter by finishing that sentence?" He gives her his best leer and eyebrow wag of the day, adding, "Because if that's the case, then I would _really_ like to hear it." She socks his shoulder with little force, but enough to make him drop the subject. "Fine," he whines, "but I'm serious. There are a lot of things you have been willing to try for me, but the day you talk dirty--I mean, really dirty--will be the day I take you down no matter where we are." The image his promise creates makes her smile inwardly, but despite her efforts to hide it, he sees and smiles too.

"Abstract or not, Mulder, I think whatever you make will most certainly be interesting."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Great," Dana gulps. "I think I'll do an abstract. I don't know if I have enough stuff to make anything that would look like a real thing anyway."

Fifteen minutes later, Mulder goes back to the middle of the room to see if he can find any more materials. While he's away from his project, Scully sneaks over to examine it. Hers is almost finished, and just as planned, looks nothing like anything she's ever seen. Mulder's, however, looks suspiciously metaphorical. "What do you think?" comes a voice from behind, startling her slightly.

"What is it?" She thumbs the Styrofoam cup at the base of the figure and scans her eyes up the vague impression of a body. All his materials have come in handy, except for the…

"It's not done yet…I mean, I guess that part is, technically, but it's only half done." She looks at the wood, cardboard, nails, newspaper, and pencils in his hands. "Are you done already?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Almost." She turns around and goes back to her own creation. Finishing her final touches, she watches as Mulder builds another body-like form. She sees the water bottle still on the table and ponders how weird it is he hasn't used it yet. Then it hits her. "Oh - my - gosh! _Mulder_!"

"What?" he jumps, dropping a block of wood on his foot. "Ow…damn it."

"Mulder, what are you making? Because I know what it looks like, but I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here." He picks up the wood and rubs his foot tenderly.

"It's art, Scully. It would be unjust for me to categorize it or give it a title, unless it could be as abstract as the idea it represents to me." She threatens to roll her eyes, but decides against it. "I call it: Love At Its Best." He picks up the water bottle and swings it in his fingers in front of her.

"Mulder, you are incorrigible," she mumbles, bowing her head to hide a grimace. "And the water bottle? I suppose that has something to do with this cup?" He shifts almost uncomfortably, which surprises her because she was sure (before now) that this was just a way for him to be inappropriate. "I'm sorry," she says more softly. "I didn't realize you were being so…adult about it. I thought it was…"

"No, it's okay. I just…I just wanted to create something that shows what I hold above all else in life. You. You and me…together. I wasn't sure at first if it was a good idea, but then I realized how perfect these materials were." He blushes slightly, but it disappears as he gestures toward his work in progress.

"You mean the water bottle and the cup," she chuckles.

"Perfect, right? And watch this." He takes the bottle to the sink and fills it with about an inch of water. Then he returns and pokes a hole in the cap with an ice pick before screwing it back on top. Finally, he holds it over the cup and grins, "Say the magic words."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she flushes.

"You sure knew what they were last night." Mulder makes to tip the bottle upside down, but he is still waiting for her to answer him. "Come on, Scully," he taunts. "And if memory serves, I practically said it for you just now." She reluctantly murmurs something under her breath. "What? I didn't hear you."

Then, she decides _what the hell_ and moans, "Now…cum now." The fact that she actually moans it instead of just saying it makes his eyes widen, and it takes everything he has not to jump her here and now. "You gonna do something, or did you make me do that just for the fun of it?" she gripes with a smirk.

"Oh…" He licks his dry lips and grumbles, "You didn't scream my name, but…whatever." As she taps her foot at his remark, he tips the bottle enough for water to squirt into the glass. "See? I told you it was perfect…not to mention the amazing resemblance in size, eh?" He points to the water bottle, which is comically significantly large in comparison to the real thing…no matter whose _thing _it is, _being a 1 liter bottle and all_. "Now, what do you think?"

"I think you are a little obsessed," she answers, shaking her head and returning to her project.

"With you, yes." She stops in her tracks and smiles inwardly. She loves the feeling of being with him, standing high up on the pedestal he had built for her long ago. Part of her curses herself for hoping things will stay like this forever, and for wanting to be on a pedestal in the first place. But then she realizes she deserves it. For someone who has put her life on the backburner to be with him and help him for so many years, she certainly doesn't give herself very much credit. Scully shakes the thought from her head modestly. She doesn't want to be egotistic, and she knows that she, as any human being, is far from perfect. But she is perfect to him, made even more perfect by her unique and personal imperfections. She loves it.

"Did I say something wrong?" has asks from behind, bringing her out of momentary, deep thought.

"No." She walks up to him slowly and pulls his head down into a genuine kiss. "You didn't say anything wrong." From her table, Scully watches Mulder happily finish his project with two minutes to spare, and the entire time, she is thinking, _I cannot believe he is making that_.

The whole ride home, she holds his hand between their seats and tries desperately to stay awake so she can enjoy it. As they walk into her apartment, she leads him to the couch and pulls him down on top of her, where they begin to kiss, the passion intensifying more and more with every gasp for air. But the moment he reaches for the buttons on her blouse, she stops him.

"What?" he huffs. She can already feel certain parts of him through both their clothes, and all his body wants to do right now is her…hard. _Men have needs just as much as women do_, she muses, feeling even worse now for what she's about to say.

"Let's wait."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's still relatively early, and there's something else I want to do."

"You wanna watch a movie or something?" he asks, his disappointment impossible to miss.

"No." With that, she gazes into his eyes and asks, "Truth or dare?" A wave of emotions splash across her partner's face, ranging from surprise to desire to mild fear. _What is he afraid I'll ask? Or dare?_

"Is this game going to be fun and dirty or just a way for you to get out of having sex tonight?" he asks. Dana chuckles and insists it's definitely not the latter of the two. "Okay, then. Truth…what the hell."

"Truth, huh?" He nods. She takes a moment to think of a question but thinks of something else first. "What should be the punishment for not answering a 'Truth' or not doing a 'Dare' do you think?"

Without a word, Mulder rises from the couch and goes into the kitchen…only to return with two shot glasses and a full bottle of Tequila. "One shot every time," he finally explains, even though no explanation is necessary. She nods her agreement and then goes back to thinking of a good question.

"When did you fall in love with me?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "But I think I _realized _I was in love with you when you were battling your cancer. Once it sunk in that I could actually lose you, that was it. I was yours."

"Then why…"

"I believe it's my turn," he interrupts. She ducks back in silence and waves him on, perhaps with slight irritation. "Okay, truth or dare?"

"Truth," she answers reluctantly, the hesitation barely noticeable.

"Then, I have the same question."

"When did I fall in love with you?" Again, he nods. "Well, in retrospect, I think it was relatively soon. Not right off the bat, but there was definitely something about you that got to me; something that made me want to be with you. I respected you in a way I had never respected any other…not necessarily more so, but differently. And I guess the moment I _knew _I loved you was the moment I found out I had real competition. Sort of cliché, huh? I was so jealous that I realized I wouldn't be able to stand it if you fell in love with another woman." She looks almost angry with herself for being so…human.

"I would have chosen you, even if she was still alive."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I know you wonder. It's okay."

"Truth or dare?" she interjects abruptly, trying to change the subject.

"Truth, but only because I'm curious of what you wanted to ask me before."

Dana sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. "I don't…never mind. What's your favorite color?"

"Oh, hell no. What were you really going to ask me?"

"It's none of my business."

"I'll be the judge of that," he says gruffly. "What were you going to ask?"

Against her better judgment, Dana concedes. "If you knew you loved me, why did you kiss her?" Mulder's eyes go wide, and he reaches for the Tequila. "Fine. Don't answer," Scully whispers, fighting off tears that are threatening to break free. His hand freezes in midair, and suddenly he pulls it back to his side.

"I was weak and confused. Diana did that to me. Besides, how did you even know?" She chooses not to answer, and he drops his forehead to his palms. "It's not like I was cheating on you or anything. I didn't even think you felt the same way about me. How was I to know? I told you I needed you and almost kissed you, but that didn't lead anywhere. I even told you I loved you, and you blew me off!"

"When did you…!" She sinks into the couch and covers her mouth. "Oh," she gasps. "That was real?" He nods and takes her hand in his. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be. We are together now, so what does it matter anyway?"

"Because I've never felt…"

"Never felt what?"

"This was supposed to be a fun game; I don't want to get into this right now."

"Scully…Dana…whatever you want to say, just say it. Now is as good as time as any, besides, isn't it important to get all of this out in the open?"

"I pick dare," she mumbles.

"Scully, just say what you were going to say."

"I said I pick dare."

"Fine, then. I _dare_ you to finish what you were going to say." Scully reaches for the Tequila, but Mulder grabs her wrist. He tries to be gentle, but his frustration gets the best of him. "Ow! _Mulder_!" He releases her quickly and rises to his feet. While he paces the floor in front of her, she whispers, "I've never felt like your first choice." He stops pacing and sits back down on the couch beside her. "I'm certainly not proud of it, and I know you just said you would have picked me anyway, but I'm just telling you how I feel."

"What could I ever do to prove to you that what I said is true?" He holds her face tenderly and looks into her eyes. She adverts her own eyes for a few seconds but finally surrenders and looks back into his.

"You don't have to do anything," she says. "Just pick truth or dare."

"Dare," he whispers.

"I dare you to forgive me."

"For what? For loving me so much that you would get jealous and a little possessive?" he grins.

"For getting so crazy about something that doesn't even matter anymore."

He leans into her and kisses her lips lustfully. They part just long enough for him to whisper, "Truth or dare?" She makes a thoughtful face as she lies down on the couch and pulls him over her for the second time that night. "Please pick dare," he whispers as he kisses her behind her right ear.

"Dare."

"I dare you to trust me."

"I do trust you, Mulder. You are the only one I trust." He unbuttons her blouse and kisses her collarbone. One thing leads to another, and eventually they end up curled around each other, still on the couch. "You are the best thing to ever happen to me," Dana moans as she tightens her arms around his torso. She kisses his shoulder tiredly and stretches to taste his lips again. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he replies warmly. "Are we still playing?"

"Do you want to be?"

"Yeah because I want to ask you something fun."

"Well, I do believe it's my turn to ask truth or dare."

"Dare," he answers eagerly, adding, "Y'know, we should have been doing dares during sex. Could have made it even _more _interesting."

"It wasn't inter--"

"Please don't hold that against me," he cringes, trying to avoid another argument. "I don't know what I was thinking. It was amazing…great…sensational…impossible to surpass."

"Oh, shut up," she scoffs behind a smirk. "I dare you to put your final project on display in your apartment after you pick it up next week." She grins devilishly, but he gives her an unaffected expression.

"You call that a dare? No one ever goes in my apartment but us."

"Fine. Then, I we can fix up your place, and you can host a party…or a 'get-together,' rather." He cringes slightly and glances at the Tequila. "Go ahead. It'll be your first," she concedes.

Mulder kisses her neck as he reaches for the bottle and tucks one of the shot glasses between the bottle and his finger. He, then, places the glass on a closer corner of the table and fills it. After a sharp gulp, made difficult by the awkward position, Mulder leans down and shares the flavor with his partner. She accepts the offer hungrily and interlaces her fingers against the back of his head. When they finally part, he rests his temple on her chest and plants mini kisses on her naked breast. "Truth or dare?" he inquires.

Her answer comes in the form of a content sigh, followed by a seductive "Dare."

"Good. This will only take me a second." He stands up and leaves her exposed to the cool air as he trots off to the kitchen. Dana gives him a suspicious glare but resists questioning his intentions. To her surprise, but not necessarily her dismay, he returns with three different flavors of ice cream toppings in hand.

"_Mulder?_" She starts to cover herself out of instinct, but he sets the two jars and canister on the table and removes her hand from her body. "You could have saved yourself the trouble of getting those by just _telling_ me that was your dare."

"What? You rather drink a shot than let me lick whipped cream, butterscotch syrup, and chocolate off of you?" She bites her lip nervously, but only nervous because she's never done this before. "Come on."

"Okay…fine. But you know what would also be fun? Doing both." She laughs at his delight and takes a shot as he examines his array of choices.

"Hmmm, what do I want to have first?" he ponders, adding, "…besides you." After careful consideration, he opens the butterscotch syrup. "Forgot to grab a spoon." He starts to get up, but she clasps her hand around his wrist. "What?"

"Use your fingers," she murmurs in a deep, but quiet, voice. He grins widely and shoves two fingers into the jar. He starts by painting a small spot on her stomach, and just as he kneels in front of the couch to indulge, he feels his body react physically to how much this is already arousing him. "Are you gonna be able to make it to the other two toppings?" she teases, taking notice as well.

He drags his wet tongue across her bellybutton and licks up the syrup around it. "I'm sure as hell gonna try." Continuing from the same jar, he explores the mingled flavors of the rest of her body, becoming even more and more aroused. Her soft moans increase in frequency and intensity with his every lick…suck…and bite. The chocolate is used next, but with it, he is more particular of its placement. At least, it seems that way to her. Oh, how she begins to crave him in other ways…ways she has so recently just experienced him. He kneads her flesh with sticky fingertips, only to lick the stickiness away.

"Truth or dare?" she whispers, her voice slightly shaky with need.

"Truth." He would have picked dare, but he doesn't want to stop what he's doing.

"What do you want to come back as?"

"You mean like reincarnation?" She tries to nod. "If I die before you do, I hope I come back as the vibrator that takes my place in your sex-life." Scully giggles at his response and holds his face in her hand.

"I love you so, so much." Her words make him smile sadly. He has never felt so strongly about someone in his life, and no one has ever felt so strongly about him. He is thankful to have her, and a simple "I love you" back could never do his feelings justice. But he says it anyway.

"I love you, too." Mulder stares at her chest like the dessert he has been pretending it to be. Deciding to move onto the whipped cream now, which was deliberately saved for last, he pushes the spout to the side and allows the fluffy cream to squirt out with a loud, airy sound.

He swirls the canister in his hand once finished with his half careful, half haphazard design. "Oh, my gosh," Dana gasps under her breath, her head whirling in a daze caused by forced patience. "Mulder…"

"Shhh." He strokes her face tenderly with his thumb and she kisses his palm. "Where do you keep the Maraschino cherries?" She raises her eyebrows at him and smiles. "Well?"

"I don't have any. I'm sorry," she sighs as he shrugs and sticks out a pouty lip. Staring at his lip, Scully feels her tongue licking her own. "But I do have something _else_…" She lowers her gaze, which he follows down her neck and past her collarbone.

"That you do," he confirms. He sees that she is still staring at his lips eagerly, so he offers his mouth whole-heartedly. Trailing tiny kisses down the same path her eyes had drawn earlier, Mulder finishes off the whipped cream. "I'm ready for this game to be over," he suddenly whispers, parting her thighs with his hand.

"Okay," she moans breathlessly and arches her back as his fingers enter her.

"You wanna take this to the bedroom where we have more room?"

"I don't think I could move if my life depended on it right now," she manages to say. Pulling his fingers back out of her, and watching in adoration as she whimpers in response, Mulder scoops her up into his arms and carries her to the bed.

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs into her ear, kissing it lightly. All she does is smile. It's all she has to do. He is completely ready for her, and she is so ready for him that it's all she can do to rub her thighs achingly together in hopes of easing her body's powerful yearnings. "Think I should make you wait longer?"

"If you try, you're gonna end up pinned to the bed for the rest of the night."

"You think that bothers me?" he grins.

"Of course not. Since when have you ever been the one on the top in this relationship?"

She giggles at his hurt expression and pulls his head down to hers. "I have had my masculine moments," he mutters after her kiss. "But I think that it would be fun if--"

_Knock! Knock!_

"Who could that be?" Dana wonders.

"I don't know. It's your apartment." Her sensations temporarily set on the back burner, Scully gets up and wraps her body in her silk robe. "I better stay here."

"Guess so, huh?" Walking into the living room, she calls, "Who is it?"

"It's me," answers a familiar male voice. _OH SHIT!_ "Didn't Mom tell you I was in town?" he asks as she opens the door to reveal one Bill Scully, Jr.

"No," she squeaks. "Wh-wh-wh-why d-d-didn't--?" She stops talking and takes a deep breath, opting to start again rather than making herself sound anymore panic-stricken than she already has. "Why didn't you call first?" Her brother glances beyond her with suspicious curiosity, perhaps wondering what his secretive sister could possibly have to hide. "Bill?"

"I thought Mom had called for me. Besides, I knew you'd be home, so I thought it would be okay." Then he eyes her even more curiously. "Why? Is this a bad time?"

What could she say? _Yes? And then what? _He'd ask why, and she wouldn't have an adequate answer. _I was just about to hop in the shower._ He'd say, _no biggie. I'll wait_. What about _I was just on my way out._ Then he'd say, _at this hour? _Or _Good, I'll go with you, and we could catch up._ But surely she can't say no. _Why did he have to visit now?_ Her mental whining is interrupted by him clearing his throat. "Uh, actually, yeah. It is. I'm sorry, Bill."

"Why? What are you doing that can't wait until later?"

_What? Or who?_ Cringing at her own thoughts, Dana mentally slaps herself. "I just--"

"You okay?" he suddenly asks.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Looks like I interrupted one of your depressed binges. How much ice cream did you eat to go through all that topping?" She blushes, and Bill takes that as an answer, though she's not sure what he thinks the answer was. "And seriously, Dana, you've made a complete mess." He pushes past her, and she has to stop herself from having a conniption on the spot, trying desperately to close her bedroom door without raising even more suspicion while Bill examines the canister on the coffee table. "You got whipped cream all over the couch! How depressed are you? What happened? Was it that idiot partner of yours?"

_That's responsible for my "depression" or the whipped cream…mostly whipped cream, anyway…on the couch?_ Again, she mentally slaps herself. "Bill, it's none of your business."

"None of my business? If he is making you depressed, then it's my business!"

_Trust me, the man is not depressing me in the least…_ "Look, I don't want things to be like this. Maybe we should get together for lunch tomorrow…catch up then. How long are you here for?"

"I'm going back to San Diego tomorrow, and then I'll be back on the ship by Friday," he answers sadly. Dana pulls her robe more tightly around her, and the feeling of it rubbing against her skin reminds her of who and what are waiting for her in the next room. "I'm sorry it's such short notice, but I don't know why Mom didn't call."

"She probably just couldn't reach me. I haven't been home that much lately," she shrugs.

"Work's got you running around again, huh?"

"Kinda…but it's not like you're one to talk."

"I know, I know. Well, maybe we should make it breakfast tomorrow so that I can be at the airport on time." Dana offers an apologetic smile, which Bill forgives with a smile of his own. "Sound good?"

"Sounds great. See you tomorrow, then, at…what…eight?"

"Eight works for me. Any preference as to where? It's your city; you know what's good."

"BT's isn't bad."

"Alright then. BT's at eight."

"Yep."

"Okay…night, Dana."

"Night." She covers her face with her hands when the door clicks shut and rubs them down to her neck. _I am getting way too old for this,_ she mutters silently. She returns to the bedroom where Mulder is under the covers and wrapped around a pillow with his eyes closed. "I wasn't even gone that long."

"Oh, I'm not asleep. Just waiting." He glances at the pillow and tosses it aside.

"Well, that's a relief. For a second there, I was worried you might have gotten tired of waiting for me as it was and had exhausted yourself on my bedding."

"Why? Did you hear any moaning?"

"Thank God no. That was Bill who dropped by." Mulder grimaces before chuckling to himself. "But he's gone now." She joins her partner in her bed and cuddles up close to him. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe we were…just…about…here," he says, making to position himself on top of her. "And you had just called me a girl."

"Oh…right," she grins. "In that case…" She sits up just enough to reach his lips with her own, and he pushes her back down to the bed. No more words are used that night; no more words are needed. And as they both reach their highs, he clutches her body closer to his than he ever has before. She kisses his forehead and fiddles with his fingers as he falls asleep, only to follow shortly behind.

The morning is beautifully crisp and colorful. Dana looks at the clock and sees she has a few minutes before she has to get up and start getting ready to leave. She never told Mulder about her date with her brother for breakfast, but that isn't a concern.

This has become their new routine, and other than unforeseen incidences such as last night, it seems to be flawless. Even Skinner no longer shows any suspicions…though she had never noticed them in the first place. _Bless Mulder's adorable, paranoid heart_, she chuckles quietly as she strokes his hair. _Back into the groove of things_, _yes _she continues to muse, _but only we can accomplish that and this at the same time._

**_The End _**


End file.
